A Few More Verses

by Susan Coolidge

All these Love has been and will be again.

“How may I know?” she said.

Thou mayest not know, for Love has conned the art

To blind the reason and befool the heart.

So subtle is he, not himself may guess

Whether he shall be more or shall be less;

Wrapped in a veil of many colored mists,

He flits disguisèd wheresoe’er he lists,

And for the moment is the thing he seems,

The child of vagrant hope and fairy dreams;