Love
Is it like a carnival with spangles and balloons, Fancy-dress and comic masks and sun-drenched afternoons Without a cloud to spoil the blue perfection of the skies? `Well yes, at first, but later on it might seem otherwise.'
Is it like a summer night when stock and roses stain The silken dark with fragrance and the nightingale again Sweetly pierces silence with its silver blades of song? `1 say once more it can be thus, but not for very long.'
Is it like a great parade with drums and marching feet And everybody cheering them, and dancing in the street, With laughter swirling all around and only tears of joy? 'If that alone, you'd find the fun would soon begin to cloy.'
Is it like the falling snow, noiseless through the night; Mysterious as moonlight and innocent and bright, Changing the familiar world with its hypnotic spell? it has been known to be like that, and other things as well.
`But if you find, when all the brightest ribbons have grown frayed The colours faded, music dumb, and all that great parade Dismissed into the darkness where the moon has been put out, Together you find warmth and strength, then that's what it's about.'
Vernon Scannell
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