For the Southern Literary Messenger.
THE KISS.--_A la Moore_.
'Tis a sweet boy! his eye is bright,
Smooth is his cheek, and velvet soft,
And his rosy, pulpy lips invite
The kiss I give, in sooth, full oft.
How glows my eye, and my heart, how wild
It beats, as I kiss the lovely child!
But there's a cause ye little ken,
Why thus I love to kiss the boy!
If _thou wert absent_, Julia, then,
The kiss I love so soon would cloy,
'Twould not be half so oft as now,
'Twould not be half so sweet, I trow.
I mark when thy lip presses his,
And, ere the dewy moisture's flown,
I steal it with another kiss,
_And dream I rip it from thy own!_
E'en _such_ a kiss thrills through my heart,
What bliss would thine own lips impart!