Classic Poem

When a girl's fancy flutters to a man,
It is but as a bird that flies and cries;
She has a winged thing's April memories
Of sunshine, and the morning Spring began.

Love at her heart, importuning a tryst,
Finds in her senses little heed of it;
But her bright lips most girlishly admit
The simple homeliness of being kissed.

Kiss and be friends, and, when the kissing closes,
Part as we met, and be no less than friends;
Why should we weep because the summer ends,
And some sweet hours have ended with the roses?