Book 1 — THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE.

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BY G. A. RAYBOLD.

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The first kiss of love, when the favor is won,

Fills the heart with pure bliss, if ’tis modestly done,

For ’tis like a brief glance from the sun’s clouded eye

Which just touches the earth and flies back to the sky.

Ah! the bliss of that moment; ’twill ever remain,

While my heart in its depths can feel pleasure or pain;

For that kiss, to my heart was like rain to the flower,

Just ready to die, till refresh’d by a shower.

The soft touch of her hand, the bright glance of her eye;

The whisper’d word spoken, the half suppress’d sigh,

May be proofs of true love, but the kiss is the token,

And pledge of a faith which may never be broken.

How fondly does memory dwell on it yet!

The scene and the hour, who can ever forget,

When reclin’d on your bosom, sustained in your arms,

You breathed out the heart long subdued by her charms?

Her kiss was the answer; so slight yet so sweet,

’Twas enough; and that moment your bliss was complete;

From the lips to each heart went a holier thrill,

Delighting and binding those hearts closer still.

That first kiss of love, when no mortal was near,

Was a sign that dispersed the last vestige of fear;

She is mine, she is mine; mine now and forever;

By those holiest ties that death only can sever.