Sonnet XVI. “Grant, fairest kind, a kiss unto thy friend!”

Giles Fletcher (1586?–1623)

“GRANT, fairest kind, a kiss unto thy friend!”

A blush replied; and yet a kiss I had.

It is not heaven that can such nectar send;

Whereat my senses, all amazed, were glad.

This done, She fled as one that was afraid;

And I desired to kiss, by kissing more.

My Love, she frowned; and I my kissing stayed:

Yet wished to kiss her as I did before.

Then as the vine, the propping elm doth clasp,

Loth to depart, till both together die;

So fold me, Sweet; until my latest gasp!

That in thy arms, to death I kissed, may lie.

Thus whilst I live, for kisses I must call:

Still kiss me, Sweet, or kiss me not at all!