Blissome

The Bull Moose is a wheesome bird / That flits from crag to crag, / And bleetsomely its voice, is heard / In many a blissome brag …

O! Blissome heart! / Two souls, one love / Are naught apart.

He hesitated, then soldiered on. “Your teeth are as white as—” “Louder!” “Your teeth are as white as a snow-covered mare. Your fingers are lissome, your kisses are blissome—'Blissome' isn't even a word!” “Irrelevant.”