Читать книгу Poems - Julia C. R. Dorr - Страница 36

Once I said, Seeing lips whose crimson hue Mocked the roses wet with dew,— Warm, sweet lips, whose breath was balm,— Pure, proud lips, serenely calm,— Tender lips, whose smiling grace Lit with splendor all the face,— “Sweet, for kiss of thine some day Men will barter souls away!”