This page has been validated.
THE ART OF KISSING
55
Kisses three he gave to me,
Kisses three—
Kisses three—
One was in the restless dusk,
Soft and tentative and shy,
And I did not leave him. I,
Though his kiss was but a husk
Flung to starving lips, I waited,
Waited, while love hesitated,
Fearful it would pass us by.
Soft and tentative and shy,
And I did not leave him. I,
Though his kiss was but a husk
Flung to starving lips, I waited,
Waited, while love hesitated,
Fearful it would pass us by.
Then he kissed me once again,
Prisoning my doubtful lips
In a long eclipse. . . .
And the night's vast rhythms beat
Over us with urgent power,
And each whitening, tardy hour
Lingered sweet, sweet. . . .
Prisoning my doubtful lips
In a long eclipse. . . .
And the night's vast rhythms beat
Over us with urgent power,
And each whitening, tardy hour
Lingered sweet, sweet. . . .
Once again he kissed me, now
In the pale and furtive dawn,
All distrait, his soul withdrawn:
And his slow lips chilled my brow.
Shall no other night be mine,
When the throbbing hours shine?
In the pale and furtive dawn,
All distrait, his soul withdrawn:
And his slow lips chilled my brow.
Shall no other night be mine,
When the throbbing hours shine?
Kisses three, he gave to me,
Kisses three———
Kisses three———
The Octopus Kiss.—There are countless passionate kisses recorded in literature; the octopus kiss in Blasco Ibanez's Mare Nostrum, when the strange Freya kisses Captain Ulysses Ferragut in the Aquarium of Naples, is worth quoting:
"Ah!" sighed Freya, throwing herself back as though she were going to faint on Ulysses' breast.
He felt as though a monster of the same class as those in the tank, but much larger—a gigantic octopus from the oceanic depths—must have slipped treacherously behind him and was clutching him in one of its tentacles. He could feel the pressure of