“Come, now or never! do it! do it!”
My lips till then had only known
The kiss of mother and of sister,
But somehow, full upon her own
Sweet, rosy, darling mouth,—I kissed her!
Perhaps ’twas boyish love, yet still,
O listless woman, weary lover!
To feel once more that fresh, wild thrill
I’d give—but who can live youth over?