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Poem by Arthur William Symons
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, or, when the kissing closes, Part, as we were together, merely friends; Why should we weep because the summer ends, And some sweet moments ended with the roses?
Arthur William Symons
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