To wit, I’ve never seen a snow as pure

Or basked in rays of sun so warm and bright,

and though the moon can but a month endure,

one scarce can find more beauty than its light.

Thus, nature’s green is gold. The youth unveil’d

No greater gold than young and blooming love.

How pure, how warm, how bright, is love prevail’d,

and freeing, flighting, more so than the dove.

Which flies and dips to soar to brand new heights.

By day an angel rides upon its wings,

Then moves to hold the owl’s flank at night

And learns from it the wisdom that it brings

I wish that youth in love were just as wise

At times youths’ love’s seducer’s brave disguise.