Simple Love

They will tell the young,

“You know naught of love,

for love of a song sung

by a bird from above

is too simple to be love.”

And, they’ll point out with mirth,

that the chid is a fool

who attempts to love the whole earth,

the good and the cruel,

and sees in every stone a jewel.

 

They will warn the young, that,

“You know naught of love,

who hide unformed minds ‘neath your hats,

and still worship a God above.

Oh — if only you knew love —

 

Love as we know it

is pain, is unkind

and oh — it┬áloves to sit

in those shadows in the mind!

If only we could find

 

an escape from this tenant

who reminds us daily of our loss,

for that terribly childish remnant

is constantly trying to toss

our hearts back to — a cross.”

 

And the young will say,

“They know naught of love

who cannot appreciate the day,

the changing skies above,

and His unchanging love.”

 

For the young, they see

love in every smile,

every face, every tree,

every path, every mile,

knowing, all the while

 

Love is simple, so they heard;

Love is simple, love is pure.

So they chose to love even the bird.

This is where we find our cure:

Love is simple — of this I’m sure.

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