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Can love,
as it transcends,
with selfish ease,
the autumn air,
to drift,
in currents
of its prophecy
into the forests
of convention,
wher Modern Moses lives
and keeps the book
of lies and laws
that bind all men
who welcome ties
and wear their chains
with pride,
but rarely do with sighs.
Thou shalt
or shalt not do,
I say who would
demand of mice and men
to listen to
the righteous rhapsody
and never hear
the sensuous harpsichord,
the music
and the melting of the heart.
Herbert Nehrlich
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