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Alexander Brome (Александр Бром)

To a Lady that turned her Cheek


ANd why this coyness, Lady mine?
What needs all this adoe?
'Tis but a swap, my lips for thine,
A gentle touch, and goe.
Nay let such kisses still be kept,
Let him that is deny'd
Your lip, and will your cheek accept,
Lye only by your side.


I hate to kiss your druggs and foiles,
'Tis flesh that I affect,
And you whose art your nature spoils,
I like not, but suspect.
Pray why's your mouth more shie than mine?
Am't I as sound as you're?
My lips let in as much good wine,
And send out words as pure.


Expect no courtship more from me,
Nor words, that you, and I
May in our judgments plainly see,
Make but a ranting lie:
Leave these coy humours and be plain:
Deny, or else be free,
Look not for love, w'thout love again,
I'll kiss, if you'l kiss me.

Alexander Brome's other poems:
  1. The Cavalier
  2. The Hard Heart
  3. The Reformation
  4. The Libertine
  5. The Prodigal

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