"What is love like?" you ask. I guess Love wears a chic, beribboned dress Of softest, lightest, sunny blue— The very kind that best suits you. Love has a bonny smile, a face That mirrors every maiden grace, Gray eyes that read my dearest thought, Hair from the golden sunshine caught, And charms too numerous to tell, Save that they make us love her well. In fact, you know—of course you do— That love is you! |