The moth’s kiss, first! Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure, this eve, How my face, your flower, had purs’d Its petals up; so, here and there You brush it, till I grow aware Who wants me, and wide open I burst. The bee’s kiss, now! Kiss me as if you enter’d gay My heart at some noonday,— A bud that dares not disallow The claim, so, all is render’d up, And passively its shatter’d cup Over your head to sleep I bow. C’è ancora qualcuno che dedica poesie di Robert Browning su youtube, questa era … Continua a leggere Gondola Days