Sleeping in some green bower, and wrapped In wool for twenty breathless years -- Was that the way your beauty kept? You're but a dribbling baby yet, My cuckoo-flower with the soft moist mouth -- Your kisses always leave me wet. If Love had time I would not rest Until I reached your heart at last, And kissed a tunnel through your breast! But Life's too short for Love's long dreams -- How many ages would we need To reach the end of one of his schemes? Disturbed in life, from morn till night, We pass away like butterflies, That snatch their kisses in their flight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TURTLE SOUP by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 9. AT STUDY by MARK AKENSIDE TO JOHN DRYDEN, ESQ.; POET LAUREATE AND HISTOGRAPHER ROYAL by PHILIP AYRES TO BARON DE STONNE WITH AIKIN'S ESSAYS ON SONG-WRITING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO JOANNA, ON SENDING ME THE LEAF OF A FLOWER ... WORDSWORTH'S GARDEN by BERNARD BARTON A POEM, DEDICATED TO WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY by ROBERT BLAIR |