The Kiss

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
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
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
And here and there, and everywhere.

Has it a speaking virtue? Yes
How speaks it, say? Do you but this
Part your joined lips, then speaks your kiss
And this love's sweetest language is.

Has it a body? Ay, and wings
With thousand rare encolourings
And as it flies, it gently sings
Love honey yields, but never stings.