Kissing Time, by Eugene Field

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Kissing Time
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

'Tis when the lark goes soaring
   And the bee is at the bud,
When lightly dancing zephyrs
   Sing over field and flood;
When all sweet things in nature
   Seem joyfully achime---
'T is then I wake my darling,
   For it is kissing time!

Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,
   And suck your sweets, O bee;
Sing, O ye winds of summer,
   Your songs to mine and me;
For with your song and rapture
   Cometh the moment when
It 's half-past kissing time
   And time to kiss again!

So---so the days go fleeting
   Like golden fancies free,
And every day that cometh
   Is full of sweets for me;
And sweetest are those moments
   My darling comes to climb
Into my lap to mind me
   That it is kissing time.

Sometimes, maybe, he wanders
   A heedless, aimless way---
Sometimes, maybe, he loiters
   In pretty, prattling play;
But presently bethinks him
   And hastens to me then,
For it 's half-past kissing time
   And time to kiss again!

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