Sunday, July 16, 2006
To The New Boys Who Have Reckless Crushes On Me
You are not true angels, new-comers,
Though with such smiling fondness you descend-¬
But for a single worldly scruple,
That cannot be a hindrance to any real love,
You start, turn away.
Lo now! You that seemed so fixed
Now stand, face averted,
How quick the transitory feeling
That was born so suddenly,
Is gone !
You are not true angels.
Even like summer rain, so gentle and so soothing,
As it descends in kindness,
And cannot but give pleasure, nay, happiness.
But lo! How quickly gone.
That which was moist with tender feeling
In a wink has gone dry:
Cannot contain much.
And yet you delude,
With promises of lingering freshness
Only to elude...