The Kiss.
By Thomas Moore
Grow to my lip, thou sacred kiss, On which my soul's beloved swore That there should come a time of bliss, When she would mock my hopes no more. And fancy shall thy glow renew, In sighs at morn, and dreams at night, And none shall steal thy holy dew Till thou'rt absolved by rapture's rite. Sweet hours that are to make me blest, Fly, swift as breezes, to the goal, And let my love, my more than soul, Come blushing to this ardent breast. Then, while in every glance I drink The rich overflowing of her mind, Oh! let her all enamored sink In sweet abandonment resigned, Blushing for all our struggles past, And murmuring, "I am thine at last!"
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"Grow to my lip, thou sacred kiss,..."
This evocative piece by Thomas Moore, titled "The Kiss.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...