SONNET. TO MELISSA's LIPS

Dear balmy lips of her who holds my heart In the soft bondage of a love sincere!— Dear balmy lips! your cherub smiles impart To your adoring suppliant's earnest pray'r. Not the fresh rose-bud, charg'd with vernal dew, Nor the warm crimson of the blushing morn, Nor the gay blossoms of the summer thorn, Are half so glowing, or so sweet as you! Dear lips!—permit my trembling lips to press Your ripen'd softness in a tender kiss: And, while my throbbing heart avows the bliss, Will you—(dear lips!) the eager stranger bless?

"Ah, fond request!"—the beauteous owner cries "Cease, wayward youth!—whoever touches, dies!"