The Kiss

Isis Town and Country - - Opinion - By ROBERT GRAVES

ARE you shaken, are you stirred By a whis­per of love? Spell­bound to a word Does time cease to move, Till her calm grey eye Ex­pands to a sky And the clouds of her hair Like storms go by? Then the lips that you have kissed Turn to frost and fire, And a white-steam­ing mist Ob­scures de­sire So back to their birth Fade wa­ter, air, earth, And the First Power moves Over void and dearth. Is that love? No, but death, A pas­sion, a shout, The deep in-breath, The breath roar­ing out, And once that is flown, You must lie alone, With­out hope, with­out life, Poor flesh, sad bone.

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