The Songs of Bilitis: I. Bucolics In Pamphylia: Pedestrian
One evening, as I sat before my door, a young man passed me by. He looked at me, I turned away. He spoke to me, I did not answer him.
He would have come nearer. I took a scythe that leaned against the wall and should have split his cheek had he advanced one pace.
Then, stepping back a little, he began to smile, and blew across his hand, saying: "A kiss for you." I screamed and wept. My mother ran to me,
Anxiously, thinking I had been stung by a scorpion. I cried, "He kissed me." My mother kissed me too, and bore me off in her arms.