She sat where he had left her all alone,
With head bent back, and eyes through love on flame;
And neck half flushed with most delicious shame;
With hair disordered, and with loosened zone, —
She sat, and to herself made tender moan,
As yet again in thought her lover came.
And caught her by her hands and called her name.
And sealed her body as her soul his own.
The June, moon-stricken twilight, warm, and fair.
Closed round her where she sat 'neath voiceless trees.
Full of the wonder of triumphant prayer,
And sense of unimagined ecstasies
Which must be hers, she knows, yet knows not why;
But feels thereof his kiss the prophecy.
Philip Bourke Marston’s The First Kiss is a poem that captures the intoxicating moment of romantic awakening, where physical passion and spiritual ecstasy converge. Written in the late 19th century, the poem belongs to the tradition of Victorian love poetry, yet it transcends its era through its vivid sensuality and psychological depth. Marston, a poet often overshadowed by his contemporaries like Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Algernon Charles Swinburne, was nonetheless a master of emotional intensity, and The First Kiss exemplifies his ability to distill complex emotions into a single, luminous moment.
This analysis will explore the poem’s thematic preoccupations, its use of imagery and symbolism, and its engagement with Victorian ideals of love and femininity. Additionally, we will consider how Marston’s personal tragedies—particularly his blindness and the early deaths of his loved ones—may have influenced his portrayal of fleeting yet transcendent passion. Ultimately, The First Kiss is not merely a poem about physical desire but a meditation on the intersection of love, anticipation, and the sublime.
To fully appreciate The First Kiss, it is essential to situate it within both the broader Victorian literary landscape and Marston’s personal life. The Victorian era was marked by a tension between rigid moral propriety and an undercurrent of sensuality, particularly in poetry. The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, with which Marston was loosely associated, often explored themes of idealized love, medievalism, and intense emotional states. Marston’s work shares this fascination with heightened emotion, though his personal suffering lent his poetry a darker, more melancholic tone.
Blinded at the age of three due to an illness, Marston experienced the world primarily through sound and touch, which may explain the tactile richness of The First Kiss. His life was further marred by loss—his fiancée, sister, and closest friends died young, leaving him in a state of perpetual grief. This biographical context adds a layer of poignancy to The First Kiss: the poem’s celebration of a singular, electrifying moment is shadowed by the knowledge that such joy is ephemeral.
At its core, The First Kiss is a poem about the transformative power of love. The female subject is depicted in a state of rapture, still feeling the lingering effects of her lover’s touch. The poem does not merely describe the kiss itself but rather its aftermath—the way it lingers in the body and soul like a sacred imprint.
One of the central themes is the idea of love as a form of revelation. The woman experiences "the wonder of triumphant prayer" (line 11), suggesting that the kiss is not just a physical act but a spiritual one. The religious connotations here are deliberate: the lover’s touch is both a blessing and a prophecy, foretelling future "unimagined ecstasies" (line 13). This aligns with the Victorian fascination with love as a quasi-religious experience, a theme prevalent in the works of poets like Robert Browning and Christina Rossetti.
Another key theme is anticipation. The woman does not fully understand the pleasures that await her ("she knows, yet knows not why" (line 14)), but she senses their inevitability. This tension between knowing and unknowing, between the present moment and the promise of the future, gives the poem its hypnotic power. The kiss is not an end but a beginning—an initiation into a deeper, more mysterious realm of feeling.
Marston’s use of imagery is lush and evocative, appealing to multiple senses to create an atmosphere of heightened sensitivity. The opening lines depict the woman in a state of disarray—her hair is "disordered," her zone (belt or girdle) is "loosened" (line 4), and her neck is "half flushed with most delicious shame" (line 3). These details suggest both vulnerability and abandon, reinforcing the idea that the kiss has left her physically and emotionally undone.
The natural world also plays a crucial role in setting the mood. The "June, moon-stricken twilight, warm, and fair" (line 9) envelops the woman, mirroring her inner warmth and the enchantment she feels. The phrase "moon-stricken" is particularly striking, implying that the night itself is spellbound, as if nature participates in her rapture. The "voiceless trees" (line 10) add to the hushed, almost sacred atmosphere, suggesting that this moment exists outside ordinary time.
Tactile imagery dominates the poem, emphasizing the physicality of the experience. The lover "caught her by her hands and called her name" (line 7), and "sealed her body as her soul his own" (line 8). The verb "sealed" is especially potent—it implies ownership but also permanence, as if the kiss has marked her indelibly. This aligns with Victorian notions of love as both a binding and a transcendent force.
The kiss itself functions as a multifaceted symbol. On one level, it is a literal act of passion, but it also represents initiation, prophecy, and spiritual union. The final line—"But feels thereof his kiss the prophecy" (line 15)—suggests that the kiss is not just a memory but a foretelling of future intimacy. It is both an event and an omen, blurring the line between present sensation and future fulfillment.
The woman’s "tender moan" (line 5) and "sense of unimagined ecstasies" (line 13) further deepen the poem’s symbolic weight. Her moan is not just an expression of pleasure but a form of incantation, as if she is summoning the lover’s presence in his absence. The "ecstasies" she anticipates are not merely physical but metaphysical, suggesting that love elevates her beyond the mundane into a realm of sublime experience.
Marston’s work shares affinities with the Pre-Raphaelite poets, particularly Dante Gabriel Rossetti, whose sonnets often explore love as a consuming, almost supernatural force. Rossetti’s The House of Life similarly depicts love as a moment of spiritual awakening, though his imagery tends to be more ornate and medievalist. By contrast, Marston’s poem is more intimate, focusing on a single, private moment rather than an elaborate allegory.
Another useful comparison is with Christina Rossetti’s Goblin Market, where sensual pleasure is both alluring and dangerous. While Rossetti’s poem warns against the perils of indulgence, Marston’s The First Kiss celebrates passion without moralizing. This difference reflects the broader Victorian ambivalence toward desire—where some poets framed it as sinful, others, like Marston, portrayed it as transcendent.
The poem’s emphasis on ecstasy and prophecy invites a reading through the lens of the sublime—a concept explored by Romantic and Victorian thinkers alike. Edmund Burke and later John Keats associated the sublime with overwhelming emotion, often triggered by beauty or terror. In The First Kiss, the woman’s experience aligns with this tradition: the kiss is so powerful that it transcends ordinary sensation, becoming a glimpse of something divine.
The idea that love reveals hidden truths is also reminiscent of Plato’s Symposium, where love is a pathway to higher knowledge. The woman’s intuition of "unimagined ecstasies" suggests that the kiss has awakened her to a reality beyond her previous understanding. In this sense, the poem is not just about romantic love but about the expansion of consciousness that love can bring.
The First Kiss is a masterful exploration of love’s duality—its ability to be both fleeting and eternal. The woman’s rapture is momentary, yet it carries the weight of prophecy, suggesting that this single kiss will resonate throughout her life. Marston’s own experiences of loss and sensory deprivation may have intensified his focus on such transient yet transformative moments.
Ultimately, the poem’s power lies in its ability to capture the ineffable—the way a single touch can alter one’s perception of the world. In its lush imagery, its interplay of physical and spiritual ecstasy, and its delicate balance between anticipation and fulfillment, The First Kiss stands as a testament to poetry’s ability to articulate the most profound human experiences. It reminds us that love, in all its forms, is not just an emotion but a revelation—one that lingers long after the moment has passed.
Click the button below to print a cloze exercise of the poem critique. This exercise is designed for classroom use.