IN A GONDOLA

by: Robert Browning (1812-1889)

      HE moth's kiss, first!
      Kiss me as if you made me believe
      You were not sure, this eve,
      How my face, your flower, had pursed
      Its petals up; so, here and there
      You brush it, till I grow aware
      Who wants me, and wide ope I burst.
       
      The bee's kiss, now!
      Kiss me as if you enter'd gay
      My heart at some noonday,
      A bud that dares not disallow
      The claim, so all is render'd up,
      And passively its shatter'd cup
      Over your head to sleep I bow.

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