The Lost Thrill

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Title:     The Lost Thrill
Author: James Whitcomb Riley [More Titles by Riley]

I grow so weary, someway, of all thing
That love and loving have vouchsafed to me,
Since now all dreamed-of sweets of ecstasy
Am I possessed of: The caress that clings--
The lips that mix with mine with murmurings
No language may interpret, and the free,
Unfettered brood of kisses, hungrily
Feasting in swarms on honeyed blossomings
Of passion's fullest flower--For yet I miss
The essence that alone makes love divine--
The subtle flavoring no tang of this
Weak wine of melody may here define:--
A something found and lost in the first kiss
A lover ever poured through lips of mine.

[The end]
James Whitcomb Riley's poem: Lost Thrill

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