As this by all is seen and heard
And known to be most true, love,
’Twere quite unnatural and absurd
That I should not kiss you, love.
There is a poem about a father lying beside his little child, Daisy, as she is being put to bed, and asking the foolish question that wife and lover ask over and over again:
There, close at her side,
“Do you love me?” I cried;
She lifted her golden-crowned head,
A puzzled surprise
Shone in her gray eyes—