A Word to the Wise

Love hailed a little maid, Romping through the meadow: Heedless in the sun she played, Scornful of the shadow. "Come with me," whispered he; "Listen, sweet, to love and reason." "By and by," she mocked reply; "Love's not in season."

Years went, years came; Light mixed with shadow. Love met the maid again, Dreaming through the meadow. "Not so coy," urged the boy; "List in time to love and reason." "By and by," she mused reply; "Love's still in season."

Years went, years came; Light changed to shadow. Love saw the maid again, Waiting in the meadow. "Pass no more; my dream is o'er; I can listen now to reason." "Keep thee coy," mocked the boy; "Love's out of season."