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...COWSLIPS AND LARKS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONG: TO CELIA by PHILOSTRATUS THE YEAR OF JUBILEE by HENRY CLAY WORK STORM AT SEA (1) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE JERUSALEM; THE EMANATION OF THE GIANT ALBION: CHAPTER 1 by WILLIAM BLAKE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 43 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |