Classic Poem

Love is a little golden fish,
—Wondrous shy . . . ah, wondrous shy . . .
You may catch him if you wish;
He might make a dainty dish . . .
—But I . . .
—Ah, I've other fish to fry!

For when I try to snare this prize,
—Earnestly and patiently,
All my skill the rogue defies,
Lurking safe in Aimée's eyes . . .
—So, you see,
—I am caught and Love goes free!