Kiss me, sweetheart. One by one
Swift and sure the moments run.
Soon, too soon, for you and me
Gone for aye the day will be.
Do not let time cheat us then,
Kiss me often and again.
Every time a moment slips
Let us count it on our lips.
While we're kissing, strife and pain
Cannot come between us twain.
If we pause too long a space,
Who can tell what may take place?
You may pout, and I may scold,
Souls be sundered, hearts grow cold;
Death may come, and love take wings;
Oh! a thousand cruel things
May creep in to spoil the day,
If we throw the time away.
Let us time, the cheater, cheat,
Kiss me, darling, kiss me, sweet.
Yesterdays. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1916.
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