What harvest halfe so sweet is

What harvest halfe so sweet is,

As still to peape the kisses

Grown ripe in sowing?

And straight to be receiver

Of that which thou art giver,

Rich in bestowing?

Kiss then, may harvest Queene,

Full garners heaping;

Kisses ripes when th'are greene,

Want only reaping.

The Dove alone expresses

Her fervencie in kisses,

Of all most loving:

A creature as offencelesse,

As those things that are senselesse,

And void od moving.

Let us so love and kisse,

Though all envie us:

That which kinde, and harmlesse is,

None can denie us.