Thy large dark eyes are wide upon my brow, Filled with as tender light As yon low moon doth fill the heavens now, This mellow autumn night! On the late flowers I linger at thy feet; I tremble when I touch thy garment’s rim; I clasp thy waist, I feel thy bosom’s beat,— Oh, kiss me into faintness sweet and dim! Thou leanest to me as a swelling peach, Full-juiced and mellow, leaneth to the taker’s reach. Thy hair is loosened by that kiss you gave; It floods my shoulders o’er; Another yet! Oh, as a weary wave Subsides upon the shore, My hungry being, with its hopes, its fears, My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest, Yet strong as is despair, as weak as tears, Doth faint upon thy breast! I feel thy clasping arms, my cheek is wet With thy rich tears. One kiss, sweet, sweet. Another yet! ALEXANDER SMITH. GIVE ME KISSES. Give me kisses—do not stay Counting in that careful way; All the coins your lips can print Never will exhaust the mint. Kiss me, then, Every moment—and again! Give me kisses—do not stop, Measuring nectar by the drop; Though to millions they amount, They will never drain the fount. Kiss me, then, Every moment—and again! Give me kisses—all is waste Save the luxury we taste, And for kissing—kisses live Only when we take or give. Kiss me, then, Every moment—and again! Give me kisses—though their worth Far exceeds the gems of earth; Never pearls so rich and pure Cost so little, I am sure. Kiss me, then, Every moment—and again. Give me kisses—nay, ’tis true, I am just as rich as you, And for every kiss I owe, I can pay you back, you know. Kiss me, then, Every moment—and again! SAXE. TO MY LOVE. Kiss me softly, and speak to me low; Malice has ever a vigilant ear: What if Malice were lurking near? Kiss me, dear! Kiss me softly, and speak to me low. Kiss me softly, and speak to me low; Envy too has a watchful ear: What if Envy should chance to hear? Kiss me, dear! Kiss me softly, and speak to me low. Kiss me softly, and speak to me low; Trust me, darling, the time is near When lovers may love with never a fear: Kiss me, dear! Kiss me softly, and speak to me low. SAXE. A DINNER AND A KISS. “I have brought your dinner, father,” The blacksmith’s daughter said, As she took from her arm the kettle And lifted its shining lid. “There is not any pie or pudding, So I will give you this.” And upon the toil-worn forehead She left the childish kiss. The blacksmith took off his apron, And dined in happy mood, Wondering much at the savor Hid in his humble food;