The Poetry Corner

The Language Of Love.

By George Augustus Baker, Jr.

Oh! he was a student of mystic lore; And she was a soulful girl All nerves and mind, of the cultured kind The paragon, pride, and pearl. They loved with a neo-Concordic love, Woofed weirdly with wistful woe. They sat in a glen, remote from men, Their converse was high and low. "What marvellous words of marvellous love, Speak marvellous souls like these?" I drew me nigh till their faintest sigh Was heard with the greatest ease. "'Oo's 'ittle white lammy is 'oo?" breathed he; "'Oors. 'Oo's lovey-dovey is 'oo?" "'Oors! 'Oors! Would 'oo k'y if dovey should die?" "No'p! tause 'ittle lammy'd die too." How truthful we poets! The "language of Love" Is a phrase we employ full oft; But whenever we do, we prefix thereto, You've noticed, the adjective "soft."