And why wouldn’t you kiss me this once.
One more time; when your face is flush.
A rosy hue, when summers prudence
Has, curtailed her autumn’s last blush.
Hold my hand and still my racing heart
I am not as ready as you dear to depart
The plum of your mouth wasp’s still…?
On my tongue with a flowering too fulfil.
Its sting is a pang in my loin’s memory
Oh, how I’d ruminate, each words spark!
And build a heavenly nest intensely
Sweet for us too rest and lovingly embark.