Love hath the wings of the butterfly, <br />Oh, clasp him but gently, <br />Pausing and dipping and fluttering by <br />Inconsequently. <br />Stir not his poise with the breath of a sigh; <br />Love hath the wings of the butterfly. <br /> <br />Love hath the wings of the eagle bold, <br />Cling to him strongly-- <br />What if the look of the world be cold, <br />And life go wrongly? <br />Rest on his pinions, for broad is their fold; <br />Love hath the wings of the eagle bold. <br /> <br />Love hath the voice of the nightingale, <br />Hearken his trilling-- <br />List to his song when the moonlight is pale,-- <br />Passionate, thrilling. <br />Cherish the lay, ere the lilt of it fail; <br />Love hath the voice of the nightingale. <br /> <br />Love hath the voice of the storm at night, <br />Wildly defiant. <br />Hear him and yield up your soul to his might, <br />Tenderly pliant. <br />None shall regret him who heed him aright; <br />Love hath the voice of the storm at night.<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-phases/