The Poetry of George Wither Edited by Frank Sidgwick |
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8. | 8. A SONNET UPON A STOLEN KISS. |
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The Poetry of George Wither | ||
8. A SONNET UPON A STOLEN KISS.
Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyesWhich waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe,
And free access unto that sweet lip lies,
From whence I long the rosy breath to draw;
Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal
From those two melting rubies one poor kiss;
None sees the theft that would the thief reveal,
Nor rob I her of ought which she can miss;
Nay, should I twenty kisses take away,
There would be little sign I had done so;
Why then should I this robbery delay?
Oh! she may wake, and therewith angry grow.
Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one,
And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.
The Poetry of George Wither | ||