Sometimes I wish that I his pillow were, So might I steale a kisse, and yet not seene, So might I gaze upon his sleeping eine, Although I did it with a panting feare: But when I well consider how vaine my wish is, Ah foolish bees (thinke I) that doe not sucke His lips for hony; but poore flowers doe plucke Which have no sweet in them: when his sole kisses, Are able to revive a dying soule. Kisse him, but sting him not, for if you doe, His angry voice your flying will pursue: But when they heare his tongue, what can controule, Their back-returne? for then they plaine may see, How hony-combs from his lips dropping bee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A LITTLE INVISIBLE BEING WHO IS EXPECTED SOON TO BECOME VISIBLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ANIMAL CRACKERS by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY THE DAYS GONE BY by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY TO A CONTEMPORARY BUNKSHOOTER by CARL SANDBURG NORTHERN FARMER, NEW STYLE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |