Of a kiss I’m afraid
as of bees in the skies,
suffer sleeping, awake,
neither rest find nor take:
of his kiss I’m afraid!
Yet I love him, well made,
with his beautiful eyes,
and his air debonnaire
white and slender, I'm fair:
curse the Past's barricade!
How I muse, how I ache!
Could I dare by-and-by
good my promise to make?
What a dreadful mistake
would be promise I'd break!
Should we swear, man and maid,
lasting joys Life supplies?
Act as lover 'spite stare
seems so difficult where
thought is fraught when court’s paid.
Of a kiss I’m afraid
as of bees in the skies,
suffer sleeping, awake,
neither rest find nor take:
of fond kiss I’m afraid!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good write, thanks. I like it.