'T is when the lark goes soaring And the bee is at the bud, When lightly dancing zephyrs Sing over field and flood;
When all sweet things in nature Seem joyfully achime - 'T is then I wake my darling, For it is kissing time!
Go, pretty lark, a-soaring, And suck your sweets, 0 bee;
Sing, 0 ye winds of summer, Your songs to mine and me;
For with your song and rapture Cometh the moment when It's half-past kissing time And time to kiss again!
So - so the days go fleeting Like golden fancies free, And every day that cometh Is full of sweets for me;
And sweetest are those moments My darling comes to climb Into my lap to mind me That it is kissing time.
Sometimes, maybe, he wanders A heedless, aimless way - Sometimes, maybe, he loiters In pretty, prattling play;
But presently bethinks him And hastens to me then, For it's half-past kissing time And time to kiss again!
