Love doesn't come rowdy and crowding
Into our lives, but glides in silver stealth,
Writes like ice skates its argent lines
On hearts that had been frozen else.
Love brims its inches full of moonlight
Soft into the cups of lovers' hearts,
Leaves its misty trailings like a sigh
Over the dawn pond's beginning light.
Love is not the drum of nature's duty,
Which mates and makes a beauty--
Where wily weasels squirm and twist
Mad as affection's fist.