Cupid, if storying legends tell aright, <br />Once framed a rich elixer of delight. <br />A chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fixed, <br />And in it nectar and ambrosia mixed: <br />With these the magic dews which evening brings, <br />Brushed from the Idalian star by fairy wings: <br />Each tender pledge of sacred faith he joined, <br />Each gentler pleasure of th' unspotted mind-- <br />Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow, <br />And hope, the blameless parasite of woe. <br />The eyeless chemist heard the process rise, <br />The steamy chalice bubbled up in sighs; <br />Sweet sounds transpired as when the enamoured dove <br />Pours the soft murmuring of responsive love. <br />The finished work might envy vainly blame, <br />And 'kisses' was the precious compound's name. <br />With half, the god his Cyprian mother blest, <br />And breathed on Sara's lovelier lips the rest.<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kisses-28/
