When night settles in
And all the flowers nod their head
I lay upon my dreamless bed
With a weeping violin

It must be cupids arch
That makes all the love birds sing
As sure I love you as the spring,
Follows the thawing March

Love follows no reason
For it seeks and seeks, never finds
Nor does it heed hours of time
Lest it be his season.

© Jack Snyder