Poems of Progress - Ella Wheeler Wilcox - Bog

His art was loving; Eres set his sign Upon that youthful forehead, and he drew The hearts of women, as the sun draws dew. Love feeds love's thirst as wine feeds love of wine; Nor is there any potion from the vine Which makes men drunken like the subtle brew Of kisses crushed by kisses; and he grew Inebriated with that draught divine.