II.
The walls that guard King Love’s fair home
Are tall and strong; yet cannot hold
From those who by the gateway roam
Some share of hoarded gold.
So youth and maiden wandering near
In straying beams of light are caught.
Their eyes serene know not the tear
Through fuller loving wrought.
It lasts for just a little while;
It is love’s playtime, one brief hour
With tender sighing to beguile—
A bud before the flower;
It is a time before the rose
Attains its fairest form complete;
Before the subtle fragrance knows
How rare it is, and sweet.