Kiss thy Beloved one's lips at first while the occasion lingers: Await thou else disgust at last from biting lip and fingers. Profit by companionship: this two-doored house forsaken, No pathway that can thither lead in future time is taken.

He must kiss the frost-bitten lips of the green-grocers.

There's a dust of hurrying feet, Bitten lips and bated breath, And drums that challenge to the grave, And faces fixed, forefeeling death.