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Give me kisses! Though their worth
Far exceeds the gems of earth,
Never pearls so rich and pure

Cost so little, I am sure.
Kiss me, then,

Every moment—and again!

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691

John Godfrey Saxe (1816-1887]

MAKE BELIEVE

KISS me, though you make believe;
Kiss me, though I almost know

You are kissing to deceive:

Let the tide one moment flow Backward ere it rise and break, Only for poor pity's sake!

Give me of your flowers one leaf,
Give me of your smiles one smile,
Backward roll this tide of grief

Just a moment, though, the while,

I should feel and almost know
You are trifling with my woe.

Whisper to me sweet and low;

Tell me how you sit and weave Dreams about me, though I know It is only make believe!

Just a moment, though 'tis plain

You are jesting with my pain.

Alice Cary [1820-1871]

KISSING'S NO SIN

SOME say that kissing's a sin;
But I think it's nane ava,

For kissing has wonn'd in this warld
Since ever that there was twa.

O, if it wasna lawfu'

Lawyers wadna allow it;

If it wasna holy,

Ministers wadna do it.

If it wasna modest,

Maidens wadna tak' it;

If it wasna plenty,

Puir folk wadna get it.

Unknown

TO ANNE

How many kisses do I ask?

Now you set me to my task.

First, sweet Anne, will you tell me
How many waves are in the sea?
How many stars are in the sky?
How many lovers you make sigh?
How many sands are on the shore?
I shall want just one kiss more.

1

William Stirling-Maxwell [1818-1878]

Phillis and Corydon

693

SONG

THERE is many a love in the land, my love,
But never a love like this is;

Then kill me dead with your love, my love,
And cover me up with kisses.

So kill me dead and cover me deep
Where never a soul discovers;

Deep in your heart to sleep, to sleep,
In the darlingest tomb of lovers.

Joaquin Miller [1841-1913]

PHILLIS AND CORYDON

PHILLIS took a red rose from the tangles of her hair,Time, the Golden Age; the place, Arcadia, anywhere,

Phillis laughed, the saucy jade: "Sir Shepherd, wilt have this,

Or"-Bashful god of skipping lambs and oaten reeds!-"a kiss?"

Bethink thee, gentle Corydon! A rose lasts all night long,
A kiss but slips from off your lips like a thrush's evening

song.

A kiss that goes, where no one knows! A rose, a crimson

rose!

Corydon made his choice and took-Well, which do you suppose?

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Arthur Colton (1868

AT HER WINDOW

"HARK, HARK, THE LARK"

From "Cymbeline"

HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty bin,
My lady sweet, arise:

Arise, arise.

1

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

"SLEEP, ANGRY BEAUTY"

SLEEP, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me!
For who a sleeping lion dares provoke?
It shall suffice me here to sit and see

Those lips shut up, that never kindly spoke:
What sight can more content a lover's mind
Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind?

My words have charmed her, for secure she sleeps,
Though guilty much of wrong done to my love;
And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps:

Dreams often more than waking passions move. Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee: That she is peace may wake and pity me.

Thomas Campion [ ? -1619]

MATIN SONG

RISE, Lady Mistress, rise!

The night hath tedious been;
No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes
Nor slumbers made me sin.

Morning

Is not she a saint then, say,

Thoughts of whom keep sin away?

Rise, Madam! rise and give me light,
Whom darkness still will cover,
And ignorance, darker than night,
Till thou smile on thy lover.
All want day till thy beauty rise;

For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes.

695

Nathaniel Field [1587-1633]

THE NIGHT-PIECE: TO JULIA

HER eyes the glow-worm lend thee,

The shooting stars attend thee;.
And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow

Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o'-the-wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way

Not making a stay,

Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber:
What though the moon does slumber?

The stars of the night

Will lend thee their light

Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,

Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet

Thy silvery feet,

My soul I'll pour unto thee.

Robert Herrick [1591-1674]

MORNING

THE lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing shakes his dewy wings,
He takes your window for the east,
And to implore your light, he sings;

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