The chrysolites and rubies Bacchus brings
To crown the feast where swells the broad-vein'd  brow,
Where maidens blush at what the minstrel sings,
They who have coveted may covet now.

Bring me, in cool alcove, the grape uncrush'd,
The peach of pulpy cheek and down mature,
Where every voice (but bird's or child's) is hush'd,
  And every thought, like the brook nigh, runs pure.

Having a crush is weird
You like someone for reasons
that wouldn't be reasons
were you not there to reason
that they were reasonable
or had not held as reasons
only to continue crushing.

There is no reason to crush
Only reasons for the crusher
that will crush his very ability
to uncrush his crush
until time has done its course.

But of course the very logic
that pervades his chosen course
is a course through the good and the beautiful
that coursing through has to offer.
It feels like a course that will last
until the last of the time marked for it.

Like that one time
I met a boy
- but I think he's really lovely.
No doubt about that.