KISSES
by: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(1772-1834)
- UPID, if storying Legends tell aright,
- Once framed a rich Elixir of Delight.
- A Chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fixed,
- And in it Nectar and Ambrosia mixed:
- With these the magic dews, which Evening brings,
- Brushed from the Idalian star by faery wings:
- Each tender pledge of sacred Faith he joined,
- Each gentler Pleasure of the unspotted mind--
- Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow,
- And Hope, the blameless Parasite of Woe.
- The eyeless Chemist heard the process rise,
- The steamy Chalice bubbled up in sighs;
- Sweet sounds transpired, as when the enamoured Dove
- Pours the soft murmuring of responsive Love.
- The finished work might Envy vainly blame,
- And "Kisses" was the precious Compound's name.
- With half the God his Cyprian Mother blest,
- And breathed on Sara's lovelier lips the rest.
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