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KISSING TIME
'TIS when the lark goes soaring
And the bee is at the bud,
When lightly dancing zephyrs
Sing over field and flood;
When all sweet things in nature
Seem joyfully achime—
'Tis then I wake my darling,
For it is kissing time!
Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,
And suck your sweets, O bee;
Sing, O ye winds of summer,
Your songs to mine and me;
For with your song and rapture
Cometh the moment when
It's half-past kissing time
And time to kiss again!
So—so the days go fleeting
Like golden fancies free,
And every day that cometh
Is full of sweets for me;
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