I doubt if Plato ever knew—
Not like, my birdie, I infer,
The long, sweet kisses I give you,
And those you give me back again,
Repeated oft, and never done;
Not thus, I fancy, could it be
Platonic brides were ever won.
As for the gallant Frenchman, he said:
Kiss me with some slow, heavy kiss,
That plucks the heart out at the lips.