Love is like a moonlit tide,
Soft, sinuous, deep, and wide.
Wild torrential currents hide
‘Neath her pretty glistering eyes.

Love is like a battering flight,
Of angels ‘scending through the night,
Ascended me soft spoken plight,
Deceptive in their glow’ring might.

Love is like a blackened stove,
Not heeding ash nor threat of Jove
Who spoke to Vulcan in his dome,
“Make me spears to light up Rome.”

Love is like a tabletop,
Concealed so that remaining slop
From greedy children faces mop
Away not to be seen a drop.

Love is like a poor man’s show,
In Italy as we all well know,
Where the beggars drop their load
Into the ******* *** and po.

Love is like a newborn child,
So innocent, meek, so mild,
Yet all p’tential for hate and vile,
Love is like a newborn child.

Love is like a stupid man,
Who heeds not life nor past, the hand
Been dealt as many times to count,
Love is like a stupid man.

Love is like a silly woman,
Thinking herself better off in ruin,
Having dealt too much and little felt,
Love is like a silly woman.

Love is like a stormy sky,
That in its fury seeks to cry,
To drop the drops of spring again,
And flower life about the land.

Love is like a simple thing,
So honestly in her degree
She speaks of things so tenderly;
Love is such a simple thing.