When a girl's fancy flutters to a man, <br />It is but as a bird that flies and cries; <br />She has a winged thing's April memories <br />Of sunshine, and the morning Spring began. <br /> <br />Love at her heart, importuning a tryst, <br />Finds in her senses little heed of it; <br />But her bright lips most girlishly admit <br />The simple homeliness of being kissed. <br /> <br />Kiss and be friends, or, when the kissing closes, <br />Part, as we were together, merely friends; <br />Why should we weep because the summer ends, <br />And some sweet moments ended with the roses?<br /><br />Arthur Symons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hesterna-rosa/
