Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/116

76 Still would I steep my lips in bliss,

And dwell an age on every kiss;

Nor then my soul should sated be,

Still would I kiss and cling to thee:

Nought should my kiss from thine dissever,

Still would we kiss and kiss for ever;

E'en though the numbers did exceed

The yellow harvest's countless seed;

To part would be a vain endeavour:

Could I desist?—ah! never—never. November 16, 1806.

TO M. S. G.

1.

I view those lips of thine,

Their hue invites my fervent kiss;

Yet, I forego that bliss divine,

Alas! it were—unhallow'd bliss.

2.

Whene'er I dream of that pure breast,

How could I dwell upon its snows!

Yet, is the daring wish represt,

For that,—would banish its repose.