JOY.

  What though my winged hours of bliss have been,
  Like angel-visits, few and far between.
Pleasures of Hope, Pt.  II.  T. CAMBPELL

    How fading are the joys we dote upon! 
    Like apparitions seen and gone;
    But those which soonest take their flight
  Are the most exquisite and strong;
    Like angels’ visits, short and bright,
  Mortality’s too weak to bear them long.
The Parting.  J. NORRIS.

And these are joys, like beauty, but skin deep. Festus, Sc.  A Village Feast.  P.J.  BAILEY.

   Joys too exquisite to last,
  And yet more exquisite when past.
The Little Cloud.  J. MONTGOMERY.

The joy late coming late departs. Some Sweet Day.  L.J.  BATES.

There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away. Song:  There’s Not a Joy.  LORD BYRON.

  Base Envy withers at another’s joy,
  And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
The Seasons:  Spring.  J. THOMSON.

How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Within whose circuit is Elysium
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
King Henry VI., Pt.  III.  Act i.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

Sorrows remembered sweeten present joy. The Course of Time, Bk.  I.  R. POLLOK.

            O stay!—­O stay!—­
  Joy so seldom weaves a chain
  Like this to-night, that, oh! ’tis pain
   To break its links so soon.
Fly Not Yet.  T. MOORE.

KISS.

What is a kiss?  Alacke! at worst,
A single Dropp to quenche a Thirst,
Tho’ oft it prooves, in happie Hour,
The first swete Dropp of our long Showre.
In the Old Time.  C.G.  LELAND.

  I was betrothed that day;
  I wore a troth kiss on my lips I could not give away.
The Lay of the Brown Rosary, Pt.  II.  E.B.  BROWNING.

  The kiss you take is paid by that you give: 
  The joy is mutual, and I’m still in debt.
Heroic Love, Act v.  Sc. 1. 
  LORD LANDSDOWNE.

  Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score;
  Then to that twenty adde a hundred more;
  A thousand to that hundred; so kisse on,
  To make that thousand up a million;
  Treble that million, and when that is done,
  Let’s kisse afresh, as when we first begun.
Hesperides to Anthea.  R. HERRICK.

  Blush, happy maiden, when you feel
  The lips which press love’s glowing seal;
  But as the slow years darklier roll,
  Grown wiser, the experienced soul
  Will own as dearer far than they
  The lips which kiss the tears away.
Kisses.  E. AKERS.

  Teach not thy lips such scorn:  for they were made
  For kissing, lady, not for such contempt,
Richard III., Act i.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

  My lips till then had only known
    The kiss of mother and of sister,
  But somehow, full upon her own
    Sweet, rosy, darling mouth,—­I kissed her.
The Door-Step.  E.C.  STEDMAN.