Sonnet CCCIII: 'I Bend and Kiss Thee; ’Tis a Little Thing’
I bend and kiss thee; ’tis a little thing;
Thousands have passed between us; and, God grant,
That nectarous sip our lips may never want;
Slight in itself, yet so much witnessing!
This is the birthday present which I bring—
Poor beggared I!—while other men may flaunt
Their gifts before me, openly may vaunt
Their love in flashing gem and golden ring.
Alas! the only gift I dare to make,
Or thou darest take, is in that little kiss,
Oh! secret love, so dread is slander’s hiss!
And yet, bethink thee, for our dear love’s sake,
The wealth of meaning gathered into this,
This kiss, which I bestow, and thou dost take!
