While my heart in its depths can feel pleasure or pain;
For that kiss, to my heart was like rain to the flower,
Just ready to die, till refresh’d by a shower.
The soft touch of her hand, the bright glance of her eye;
The whisper’d word spoken, the half suppress’d sigh,
May be proofs of true love, but the kiss is the token,
And pledge of a faith which may never be broken.
How fondly does memory dwell on it yet!
The scene and the hour, who can ever forget,
When reclin’d on your bosom, sustained in your arms,