Kissing Time
‘T is when the lark goes soaringAnd the bee is at the bud,When lightly dancing zephyrsSing over field and flood;When all sweet things in natureSeem joyfully achime—‘T is 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 raptureCometh the moment whenIt’s half-past kissing timeAnd time to kiss again!
So—so the days go fleetingLike golden fancies free,And every day that comethIs full of sweets for me;And sweetest are those momentsMy darling comes to climbInto my lap to mind meThat it is kissing time.
Sometimes, maybe, he wandersA heedless, aimless way—Sometimes, maybe, he loitersIn pretty, prattling play;But presently bethinks himAnd hastens to me then,For it’s half-past kissing timeAnd time to kiss again!