Cleveland Morning Leader

LOVE'S FIRST KISS,
BY JEAN INGELOW.
Walking apart she thinks none listens,
And now she carols, and now she stops;
While the evening stars begin to glisten
Between the lines of blossoming hops.
Sweetest Mercy! your mother taught you
All uses and cares that to maids belong
Apt scholar to read and to sew, she thought you,
But she did not teach you that song!
A crash of boughs—one thought them breaking—
Mercy is startled, and fain would fly;
But e'en as she turns, her steps o'ertaking!
He pleads with her—"Mercy, it is but I."
"Mercy!" he touches her hand unbidden—
"The air is balmy, I pray you stay—"
"Mercy!" Her downcast eyes are hidden,
And never a word she has to say.
Till closer drawn, her prisoned fingers
He takes to his lips with a yearning strong,
And she murmurs low that late she lingers,
Her mother will want her, and think her long.
"Good mother is she, deem honor duly
The lightest wish in the heart that stirs;
But there is a bond yet dearer truly,
And there is a love which passeth here."
"Mercy. Mercy!" Her heart attendeth,
And the blush on her maiden brow is sweet;
She lifts her face when his own he bendeth,
And the lips of the youth and the maiden meet.