Love Song Poem by Roy Ballard

You little, bright-eyed wanton,
who lately left me smiling,
of love you have convinced me
with every kind beguiling
but so convince me every day
for love is wont to slip away
with swifts and swallows flying,
to leave a lover all aheap
and everybody crying.

I see the garden where you are
and feel perpetual pining
to search the heavens in your eyes
and count the stars there shining.
At night I see a desert place
with stars above its sandy face
with you and me reclining
though not a star is half as bright
as you and me entwining.