The Kiss

Among thy fancies tell me this

What is the thing we call a kiss

I shall resolve ye what it is



It is a creature born and bred

Between the lips, all cherry-red

By love and warm desires fed

And makes more soft the bridal bed



It is an active flame that flies

First to the babies of the eyes

And charms them there with lullabies

And stills the bride too, when she cries



Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear

It frisks and flies, now here, now there

'Tis now far off, and then 'tis near

And here and there, and everywhere



Has it a speaking virtue? Yes

How speaks it, say? Do you but this

Part your joined lips, then speaks your kiss

And this love's sweetest language is



Has it a body? Ay, and wings

With thousand rare encolourings

And as it flies, it gently sings

Love honey yields, but never stings