Home  »  A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895  »  The First Kiss

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Theodore Watts-Dunton 1832–1914

The First Kiss


IF only in dreams may man be fully blest,

Is heav’n a dream? Is she I clasp’d a dream?

Or stood she here even now where dew-drops gleam

And miles of furze shine golden down the West?

I seem to clasp her still—still on my breast

Her bosom beats,—I see the blue eyes beam:—

I think she kiss’d these lips, for now they seem

Scarce mine: so hallow’d of the lips they press’d!

Yon thicket’s breath—can that be eglantine?

Those birds—can they be morning’s choristers?

Can this be earth? Can these be banks of furze?

Like burning bushes fir’d of God they shine!

I seem to know them, though this body of mine

Pass’d into spirit at the touch of hers!