Poetry Archives

Sweet is the maiden’s kiss that tells
  The secret of her heart;
Holy the wife’s—yet in them dwells
  Of earthliness a part;

While in a little child’s warm kiss
  Is naught but heaven above,
So sweet it is, so pure it is,
  So full of faith and love.

’Tis like a violet in May
  That knows nor fear nor harm,
But cheers the wanderer on his way
  With its unconscious charm.

’Tis like a bird that carols free,
  And thinks not of reward,
But gives the world its melody
  Because it is a bard.