To Mrs,---. On Her Beautiful Translation Of Voiture's Kiss.

A poem by Thomas Moore

Mon ame sur mon lèvre étoit lors toute entière.
Pour savourer le miel qui sur la votre étoit;
Mais en me retirant, elle resta derrière,
Tant de ce doux plaisir l'amorce l'a restoit.
VOITURE.


How heavenly was the poet's doom,
To breathe his spirit through a kiss:
And lose within so sweet a tomb
The trembling messenger of bliss!

And, sure his soul returned to feel
That it again could ravished be;
For in the kiss that thou didst steal,
His life and soul have fled to thee.

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