Elizabeth Barrett Browng
First ti he kissed , he but only kissed
The fgers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever sce, it grew oreand white.
Sls, quick with its“O, list,”
When the angels speak. A rg of athyst
I uld not wear here, per to y sight,
Than that first kiss. The send passedheight
The first, and sought the forehead, and half issed,
Half fallg on the hair. O beyond ed!
That was the chris of love, which loves own ,
With sanctifyg sweetness, did precede
The third upon y lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; sce when, deed,
I have been proud and said,“My love, y own.”