Puppy Love

What it is I well remember,
Puppy-like, the old ones call it,
Senses enter little in it,
Intellect but matters small.

Just as little sway convenience
Gives to fan the flame of youth;
Or security-- the blinded,
Clinging des'prate to each other--
Old ones falter oft in this.

One too young to know the rules,
Those the old ones say must be
Before a love can happen, only
He can know of which I write.