And here upon the battle ground, Exhausted with the march and fight, And sickened with the dreary sight Of the red carnage all around, I sigh to taste one cooling breath Blown from the icy hills and sea; Then welcome as a bride’s to me Would be the gentle kiss of Death. MARY IN HEAVEN. Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore O’erhung with wild woods thickening green. BURNS. QUEEN GUINEVERE. A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth, for this, To waste his whole heart on one kiss Upon her perfect lips. TENNYSON. THE PARTING. The trance gave way To those caresses, when a hundred times In that last kiss, which never was the last, Farewell, like endless welcome, lived and died. TENNYSON. THE POET’S FOOD. Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aërial kisses Of shapes that haunt Thought’s wildernesses. SHELLEY. SLEEP. Sleep, the fresh dew of languid love, the rain Whose drops quench kisses till they burn again. SHELLEY. THE KISS IN ENIGMA. I am just two and two, I am warm, I am cold, And the parent of numbers that cannot be told; I am lawful, unlawful,—a duty, a fault; I am often sold dear, good for nothing when bought; An extraordinary boon, and a matter of course, And yielded with pleasure—when taken by force.[33] COWPER. * * * * * A lady gave a gift, which she had not, And I received her gift, which I took not; She gave it me willingly, and yet she would not; And I received it, albeit I could not; If she gives it me, I force not, And if she takes it again, she cares not. Construe what this is, and tell not; For I am fast sworn, I may not. WYATT. * * * * * A lady once did ask of me This pretty thing in privity: Good sir, quoth she, fain would I crave One thing which you yourself not have; Nor never had yet in times past, Nor never shall while life doth last; And if you seek to find it out, You lose your labor out of doubt. Yet, if you love me as you say, Then give it me, for sure you may. GASCOIGNE. * * * * *