Classic Poem

Kisses, kisses, what are ye?
Atoms of felicity;
Offshoots of a life that's fleeting,
Ages long a moment meeting,
Showing, in a nick of time, —
Better than in reasoned rhyme,
Or than any old wife's saying, —
Kindness more than wisdom's weighing
Counts, but cannot count the paying.
Youth and age herein are one,
And nothing's new beneath the sun.

Kisses, kisses, what are ye?
Sweet to hear, and touch, and see.
Is it sense ye thrive upon,
Lacking which the rest were gone?
Or, were man of sense bereft,
Would there still be kisses left?
Oh, were I deaf, or dumb, or blind,
Should I yet not have a mind —
Kisses, kisses, with a will,
To receive and render still?

Kisses, kisses, what say ye? —
Have ye any eyes to see:
Have ye hearts between your wings
As ye fly and leave your stings,
Playing, with such tender show,
Teasing games of touch-and-go?
Do the senses ye infect
Find reward in retrospect;
Or in foretaste, fancy free,
Miss the sweets of memory?

Kisses, kisses, ye can be
Fickle, faithful, bond or free;
Tongue-tied tales of love unchanged,
Trimmings to a taste outranged,
Tenders taken on approval,
Fixtures subject to removal,
Wayside weeds, or planted plots,
Pick-me-quicks, forget-me-nots,
Weak as water, red as wine,
Nectar-draught, or anodyne,
Mixture, taken as before,
Thrice a day, — or nevermore!

Kisses, kisses, off and be
What ye will, — the choice is free!
Sweets in surreptitious corners,
Lucky plums for good Jack Horners,
Honey-sweet or stony-hearted,
Welcome change or dear-departed,
Unforeseen or long-expected,
Modest, coy, demure, dejected,
Pretty poutings, dainty purses,
Nesting-places, covert curses,
Oft-times thefts, but sometimes prizes, —
Such a many makes and sizes:
Why should I the risk refuse,
If I still can pick and choose?

I have found in your embraces
Such avowals, such fair faces,
Such concealments, such disguises,
Such assurance, such surprises,
Such dear safety, such sweet dangers,
Such familiars, such kind strangers, —
Oh, if such sweet things were not,
Better man stayed unbegot, —
Courtship better unconceived
Than so robbed, bereft, and grieved!

When on Jordan's banks I stand,
Back to Life I'll kiss my hand;
When I draw my latest breath,
Then I'll blow a kiss to death.