She keeps me and rolls me to where there is joy
Unfairly we offer our hearts to her
And chuck them and high huck them
My girl is a jetplane at night
A hot concentration of fast moving light
I think that when I hold her in evening time
Perhaps that her love demands more time
That perhaps for her love I should count to three hundred
And cast off my own needs till that time
Perhaps in her eyes there is happiness
Perhaps in her heart is a restful content
Perhaps in her family there was a great lawfulness
A healthy old record of love not duress
But I have not paid her in kind
A keepsake here and one there
For my sake more than for hers