Procter
Oh, Isidora, where—
Where are you loitering now when Guido’s here?
By the bright god of love, I’ll punish you,
Idler, and press your rich red lips until
The color flies.
Mirandola.
Mrs. Browning
[Eve to Adam.] Because I comprehend
This human love, I shall not be afraid
Of any human death; and yet because
I know this strength of love, I seem to know
Death’s strength by that same sign. Kiss on my lips,
To shut the door close on my rising soul,
Lest it pass outward in astonishment,
And leave thee lonely.
Drama of Exile.
Adam. A child’s kiss
Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad—
...
Thy hand, which plucked the apple, I clasp close;
Thy lips, which spake wrong counsel, I kiss close.
Drama of Exile.