Sara Teasedale: Spring

Spring

In Central Park the lovers sit,    On every hilly path they stroll, Each thinks his love is infinite,    And crowns his soul.
But we are cynical and wise,    We walk a careful foot apart, You make a little joke that tries    To hide your heart.
Give over, we have laughed enough;    Oh dearest and most foolish friend, Why do you wage a war with love    To lose your battle in the end?