First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of his hand wherewith I write
And ever since, it grew more clean and white..
Slow to world greetings, quick with it's " Oh, List "
When the angels speak. A ring of Amethyst
I could not wear here, plainner to my sight
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed !!!
That was the crism of love, which love is own crown
with sanctifiying sweetness, did precede
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state, since when, indeed..
I have been proud and said " My Love, My Own "
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