Your too-soft lips are too too soft, I swear.
How can it be that I still be from kissing there?
That first sweet touch was—-air, then, liquid sun,
And yet a cooling warmth, or warming cool
Swept up through me, or down, and in sweet pool
Of bliss I did not faint, but almost did.
Oh, tomorrow, tomorrow, keep them hid;
Let me not even see, or I may die!
Oh, tomorrow tomorrow, come you fast!
For I would still be kissing while I last!
O torture delicious! O temptress divine!
My star-eyed lover whose days are all mine!
