That kiss was niceI had a dreamI felt the touchWhose lips on mine?Methought, benignYour lips I felt… on mineAnd I was loved by you at lastBeloved, bedeared by you at least…And glad I was,I thought of thee…How sure I was it real to be!´Twas not a crime:That kiss was mine!

Alas! my lass was hubris-hurtAnd forth she went,Away she turned:“And ne´er e´er see me moAnd shun ye me,Far, thither be!”A crime, it seemed, had I performedAnd clogged her ear from all my talk.She scorned my heart,Its swell and naught.The haughty lookAnd way I walkedWas spelled to nilAnd killed in thought:“I curse at thee,Hurl ye from…