A Kiss.

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve:
The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

Bad May Be Better.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Fair Shows Deceive.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

No Want Where There's Little.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon A Sour-Breath Lady. Epig.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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The Kiss: A Dialogue

Among thy fancies, tell me this,
What is the thing we call a kiss?
I shall resolve ye what it is:

It is a creature born and bred
Between the lips, all cherry-red,
By love and warm desires fed,
CHOR.And makes more soft the bridal bed.
It is an active flame, that flies
First to the babies of the eyes,
And charms them there with lullabies,
CHOR.And stills the bride, too, when she cries.
Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,
It frisks and flies, now here, now there:
'Tis now far off, and then 'tis near,
CHOR.And here, and there, and every where.
Has it a speaking virtue?
Yes.
How speaks it, say?
Do you but this,
Part your join'd lips, then speaks your kiss;
CHOR.And this Love's sweetest language is.
Has it a body?
Ay, and wings,...

Robert Herrick

Kisses Loathsome.

I abhor the slimy kiss,
Which to me most loathsome is.
Those lips please me which are placed
Close, but not too strictly laced:
Yielding I would have them; yet
Not a wimbling tongue admit:
What should poking-sticks make there,
When the ruffe is set elswhere?

Robert Herrick

Leaven.

Love is a leaven; and a loving kiss
The leaven of a loving sweetheart is.

Robert Herrick

Kisses.

Give me the food that satisfies a guest:
Kisses are but dry banquets to a feast.

Robert Herrick

To Anthea.

Ah, my Anthea! Must my heart still break?
(Love makes me write, what shame forbids to speak.)
Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;
Then to that twenty add a hundred more:
A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on,
To make that thousand up a million.
Treble that million, and when that is done
Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.
But yet, though love likes well such scenes as these,
There is an act that will more fully please:
Kissing and glancing, soothing, all make way
But to the acting of this private play:
Name it I would; but, being blushing red,
The rest I'll speak when we meet both in bed.

Robert Herrick

Upon Love.

Some salve to every sore we may apply;
Only for my wound there's no remedy.
Yet if my Julia kiss me, there will be
A sovereign balm found out to cure me.

Robert Herrick