Poems (Kennedy)/Love's Game

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LOVES GAME
I HELD her hand—In at the window peered a crescent moon,From far away there came the mystic rune   The sea sings to the shoreIn restless monotone of joy or pain—That old, old rune whose ceaseless soft refrain   The primal lovers heard of yore.
I held her hand—So close her golden head, like incense rareI caught the breath of roses in her hair,   Of roses red as wine.It was a moment fraught with doubt intense(For others watched with questioning suspense   Her yielded hand in mine).
I held her hand—A happy man and proud, for none gainsaidThe precious preference she thus betrayed   With subtle, smiling grace.I held her hand—at bridge! She ate an iceAnd whispered o'er my shoulder sage advice:   "No trumps; and lead the ace."
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