When she walks in, I become a man;
When I walk in, she becomes awake.
With countenance she sows my soul
With warmth and soothe of love endowed;
Conversing her in mirth and wonder,
I point the way her mind should wander.
Refined as senses should be treated,
The guest of sympathy is seated.
Too much water a flower drowns,
And so her care is kept in bounds.
No rage or jealousy I've witnessed,
For moderation follows her kisses.
I see my duty, as Adam before,
To reap the follies of her war
And summon the eye and mind to see
The world with sagelike clarity,
Yet keep in mind that I am too
But a pupil in reality's magnitude.
Thought and feeling, with all due
Live happily in moderation's glue.
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