The Sweeter Boon

I'm not devoted to those empty sweets
Or chocolate rabbits, even solid ones,
Or gum drops, fruit ices, or sticky buns.
The plainest foods, the things an old man eats,
That's what I like. Your serving maid repeats
The question, but I'm sticking to my guns,
Refusing jujubes (they give me the runs),
Raw honeycomb, and all those other treats.

And yet there is a pleasure I would know:
A finer, sweeter boon, one simple kiss
From you — or if not, from that little miss
Who offered me the larder's contents. Oh,
Her lips are red, like yours, and thrill me so —
Don't leave me begging hopelessly like this!