Poetry Archives

Where is the Land of Kisses,
  Can you tell, tell, tell?
Ah, yes; I know its blisses
                 Very well!
’Tis not beneath the swinging
                 Of the Jessamine,
Where gossip-birds sit singing
                 In the vine!

Where is the Land of Kisses,
  Do you know, know, know?
Is it such a land as this is?
                 No, truly no!
Nor is it ’neath the Myrtle,
                 Where each butterfly
Can brush your lady’s kirtle,
                 Flitting by!

Where is the Land of Kisses,
  Can you say, say, say?
Yes; there a red lip presses
                 Mine ev’ry day!
But ’tis not where the Pansies
                 Open purple eyes,
And gossip all their fancies
                 To the skies!

I know the Land of Kisses
  Passing well, well, well;
Who seeks it often misses—
                Let me tell.
Fly, lover, like a swallow,
                Where your lady goes;
You’ll find it if you follow,
                ’Neath the Rose.