When you were still
Wiping your nose on your sleeve
And were convinced that birds
Were feathery things with wings
And love was a distant animal
That stalked much older lads,
About which you were glad,
You played in fields, buck wild
And grew in strength and might
Until she came into your sight.
The prettiest bird among all
And you couldn’t help but fall.
The distant animal had come
Stalking you at last.
And you were quite glad,
My lad.