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Let me kiss that special kiss

The one that’s more than touch

That gentle pressing of the lips

Persuading blood to rush

 

The kiss that makes you tremble

And makes your legs go weak

A moist embrace of tenderness

That takes you to your peak

 

With a heady scent of passion

It makes your body sway

The kiss that penetrates your soul

And takes your breath away

 

It lingers for a lifetime

You never will forget

The bursting of your senses

When our emotions met.

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Just Home and Love! the words are small

Four little letters into each;

And yet you will not find in all

The wide and gracious range of speech

Two more so tenderly complete:

When angels talk in Heaven above,

I’m sure they have no words so sweet

Than Home and Love.

 

Just Home and Love! it’s hard to guess

which of the two were best to gain;

Home without Love is bitterness;

Love without Home is often pain.

No! each alone will seldom do;

Somehow they travel hand and glove:

If you win one you must have two,

Both Home and Love.

 

And if you’ve both, well then I’m sure

You ought to sing the whole day long;

It doesn’t matter if you’re poor

With these to make divine your song.

And so I praisefully  repeat,

When angels talk in Heaven above,

There are no words more simply sweet

Than Home and Love.

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann’d:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

 

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep,

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.