Explore "The Lost Thrill" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.