Like as the hart that lifteth up his ears,
To hear the hound that hath him in the chase,
Doth cast the wind in dangers and in fears,
With flying foot to pass away a pace,
So must I fly of love the vain pursuit
Whereof the gain is lesser than the fruit.

And I also must loath those leering looks,
Where love doth lurk still with a subtle sleight,
With painted mocks, and inward hidden hooks,
To trap bytrust that lieth not in wait.
The end whereof, assay it whoso shall,
Is sugared smart, and inward bitter gall.

An Allegoric Romance

Like a lone Arab, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind,
Who sits beside a ruin'd well,
Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell;
And now he hangs his aged head aslant,
And listens for a human sound — in vain!
And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant,
Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain; —
Even thus, in vacant mood, one sultry hour,
Resting my eye upon a drooping plant,

VERSE

When the only sound in the empty street
Is the heavy tread of the heavy feet
That belong to a lonesome cop,
I open shop.
When the moon so long has been gazing down
On the wayward ways of this wayward town
That her smile becomes a smirk,
I go to work.

REFRAIN

Love for sale,
Appetizing young love for sale.
Love that's fresh and still unspoiled,
Love that's only slightly soiled,
Love for sale.
Who will buy?
Who would like to sample my supply?

VERSE 1 HE :

I feel a sudden urge to sing
The kind of ditty that invokes the Spring,
So control your desire to curse
While I crucify the verse. SHE :
This verse you've started seems to me
The Tin-Pantithesis of melody,
So spare me, please, the pain,
Just skip the damn thing and sing the refrain. HE :
Mi, mi, mi, mi,
Re, re, re, re,
Do, sol, mi, do, la, si. SHE :
Take it away.

REFRAIN 1

The night is young, the skies are clear,
So if you want to go walking, dear,

VERSE

I'm so in love,
And though it gives me joy intense,
I can't decipher
If I'm a lifer,
Or if it's just a first offense.
I'm so in love,
I've no sense of values left at all.
Is this a playtime,
Affair of Maytime,
Or is it a windfall?

REFRAIN 1

Is it an earthquake or simply a shock?
Is it the good turtle soup or merely the mock?
Is it a cocktail, this feeling of joy,
Or is what I feel the real McCoy?
Have I the right hunch or have I the wrong?

VERSE

After watching your appeal from ev'ry angle,
There's a big romantic deal I've got to wangle,
For I've fallen for a certain luscious lass,
And it's not a passing fancy or a fancy pass.

REFRAIN

I love the looks of you, the lure of you,
I'd love to make a tour of you,
The eyes, the arms, the mouth of you,
The east, west, north, and the south of you.

I'd love to gain complete control of you,
And handle even the heart and soul of you.
So love, at least, a small percent of me do,
For I love all of you.

Let them say to my Lover
That here I lie!
The thing of His pleasure,
His slave am I.

Say that I seek Him
Only for love,
And welcome are tortures
My passion to prove.

Love giving gifts
Is suspicious and cold;
I have all, my Beloved,
When Thee I hold.

Hope and devotion
The good may gain;
I am but worthy
Of passion and pain.

So noble a Lord
None serves in vain,
For the pay of my love
Is my love's sweet pain.

I love Thee, to love Thee, —
No more I desire;

VERSE

Never saw you look
Quite so pretty before,
Never saw you dressed
Quite so lovely, what's more
I could hardly wait
To keep our date
This lovely Easter morning,
And my heart beat fast
As I came through the door,
For

REFRAIN

In your Easter bonnet
With all the frills upon it
You'll be the grandest lady
In the Easter Parade.
I'll be all in clover,
And when they look you over
I'll be the proudest fellow
In the Easter Parade.

VERSE

Though you've decided that our love is wrong
And think that we should part,
It seems as though I have loved you so long,
You'll always be in my heart.

REFRAIN

Is it a sin,
Is it a crime
Loving you, dear, like I do?
If it's a crime, then I'm guilty,
Guilty of loving you.
Maybe I'm wrong,
Dreaming of you,
Dreaming the lonely night through.
If it's a crime, then I'm guilty,
Guilty of dreaming of you.
What can I do,
What can I say,

Leona, dear, twelve months ago,
Your pensive soul I scarce did know;
A summer's touch we did require
To wake the strings of love's soft lyre.

Accept this trifle, dear, and know
My blessing glides where'er you go.
May joy with her delightful breeze
Fan all your life, prays Eloise.