THE first sweet kiss, Where is the harm? The tender pressure Of an arm; Two heads drooped low, One hand caressed, A sunny head Upon your breast. The maid no more Is just the same; And you and she Must share the blame. From off a peach You lightly brush Its greatest charm, The downy blush. But if you claim The maid or peach, No need such Platitudes to preach. Another's counsel You despise, Deeming your course Exceeding wise. You'll work your own Sweet will I ween, And let no meddler Come between. |