Once on a time I fair Dorinda kiss'd,
Whose nose was too distinguish'd to be miss'd;
My dear, says I, I fain would kiss you closer,
But tho' your lips say aye--your nose says, no, Sir.--
The maid was equally to fun inclin'd,
And plac'd her lovely lily-hand behind;
Here, swain, she cry'd, may'st thou securely kiss,
Where there's no nose to interrupt thy bliss.
More verses by Christopher Smart
- The Pig
- From Jubilate Agno, Fragment B, Lines 695-768
- On My Wife's Birth-Day
- Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 2
- Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 4