Love without hope,
as when the young bird-catcher
Swept off his tall hat to the Squire's daughter,
So let the imprisoned larks escape and fly
Singing about her head, as she rode by.

Robert Graves, 1925.

Is there anything that can be added to what I think is the perfect love poem? One sentence nearly says all there is to say.

(Please forgive my apparent languor, but I can hear rustlings coming from the LoveSunshine blog cave, now that spring is here...)