Because your thrust of life is more like spring's
I won't compare you to a summer's day.
You delight more in equinoctial flings
Than in the steady, warm and boring ray.
Yet there was the promise of summer nights,
Starlit excitement, aromatic rose,
The punk and tinder that sometimes ignites,
When you first interrupted my repose.
Don't try to rank the years we've come to share
Why look for ardor's rise or love's decline?
Ours, we hope, is no fly-by-night affair.
Just think of how our lives now intertwine.
With hope I face the teeth of time's despair,
Knowing, my funny love, that you are there.