THE COLD KISS by THOMAS STANLEY

SUCH icy kisses, anchorites that live
Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give;
And those cold maids on whom Love never spent
His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,
To their expiring fathers such bequeath,
Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath:
The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice
Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice.

Fie, Chariessa! whence so chang'd of late,
As to become in love a reprobate?
Quit, quit this dullness, Fairest, and make known
A flame unto me equal with mine own.
Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon
Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone,
Let's once more join our lips, and thou shalt see
That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.

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