Kisses

What’S the time of night, my dear? For my maiden said, “I’ll come”— Said “I’ll come,”—but is not here: And ’tis now the midnight’s gloom. Lone and silent home I turn’d; But upon the bridge I met her— Kiss’d her:—How my hot lips burned!— How forget it—how forget her! In one kiss full ten I drew: And upon my lips there grew, From that hour, a honey-dew, As if sugar were my meat, And my drink metheglin sweet.