May

It's in the moony nights of May
that Fear and Love come out to play;
Fear with his great head and ears,
Love with her glittering net of years.

Paw in hand and hand in paw,
they take turns touching on the raw;
for Love hunts softly, like the owl,
but Fear prefers to bay and howl.

Out beyond the glimmering dark
they twirl each other in the park,
Fear in boots stamps out the beat
before Love's bare and noiseless feet.