LOVERLAND

This is the land where minor bards And other lunatics repair, To live in houses made of cards, Or build their castles in the air;

To feed on hope, and idly dream That things are really what they seem. The natives are a motley lot, Of ev'ry age and creed and race,

But each inhabitant has got The same expression on his face; They look, when this their features fills, Like angels with internal chills.

The lover sits, the livelong day, Quite inarticulate of speech; He simply brims with things to say; Alas! the words he cannot reach,

And, silent, lets occasion pass, Feeling a fulminating ass. It is the lady lover's wont To blush, and look demure or coy,

To say,‘ You must n't!’ and,‘ Oh! do n't!’ Or,‘ Please leave off, you naughty boy!’ ( But this, of course, is just her way, She would n't wish you to obey. )

The lover, in a trembling voice, Demands the hand of his lovee, And begs the lady of his choice To share some cottage-by-the-sea;

With her a prison would be nice, A coal-cellar a Paradise! ‘ Love in a cottage’ sounds so well; But oh, my too impatient bride,

No drainage and a constant smell Of something being over-fried Is not the sort of atmosphere That makes for wedded bliss, my dear.

And when the bills are rather high, And when the money's rather low, See poor Virginia sit and sigh, And ask why Paul must grumble so!

He slams the door and strides about, And, through the window, Love creeps out. ‘ Tis said that Cupid blinds our sight With fire of passion from above,

Nor ever bids us see aright The many faults in those we love; Ah no! I deem it otherwise, For lovers have the clearest eyes.

They see the faults, the failures, and The great temptations, and they know, Although they cannot understand, That they would have the loved one so.

Believe me, Love is never blind, His smiling eyes are wise and kind. Tho’ lovers quarrel, yet, I ween, ‘ Tis but to make it up again;

The sunshine seems the more serene That follows after April rain; And love should lead, if love be true, To perfect understanding too.

If in our hearts this love beats strong, We shall not ever seek to earn Forgiveness for some fancied wrong, Nor need to pardon in return;

But learn this lesson as we live, ‘ To understand is to forgive.’ And all you little girls and boys Will find this out yourselves, some day,

When you have done with childish toys And put your infant books away. Ah! then I pray that hand-in-hand You tread the paths of Loverland.

Do n't fall in love, but, when you do, Take care that he ( or she ) does too; And, lastly, to misquote the bard, If you must love, do n't love too hard.