What harvest half so sweet is

What harvest half so sweet is
As still to reap the kisses
Grown ripe in sowing?
And straight to be receiver
Of that which thou art giver,
Rich in bestowing?
Kiss then, my Harvest Queen,
Full garners heaping!
Kisses, ripest when th' are green,
Want only reaping.

The dove alone expresses
Her fervency in kisses,
Of all most loving:
A creature as offenceless
As those things that are senseless
And void of moving.
Let us so love and kiss,
Though all envy us:
That which kind, and harmless is,
None can deny us.