I am not always a big fan of poetry. It leaves too much unsaid. I have, however, long loved this poem. It is by Robert Herrick.
1. AMONG thy fancies, tell me this:
What is the thing we call a kiss?
2. I shall resolve thee 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.
2. 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.
2. Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,
It frisks, and flies, now here, now there,
‘T is now far off, and then ‘t is near:
Chor. And here, and there, and everywhere.
1. Has is it a speaking virtue? 2. Yes.
2. How speaks it, say? 2. Do you but this:
Part your joined lips, then speaks your kiss.
Chor. And this love’s sweetest language is.
1. Has it body? 2. Aye, and wings,
With thousand rare encolorings;
And as it flies, it gently sings,
Chor. Love honey yields, but never stings.