(By Forest M. “Pop” Hall)On moonlit nights: The time to stroll,And chat of sweetest nothingness—Young lovers, to us seem so droll,As in emotion’s strong control They laugh and coo—their love confess.4Ah, we—though wed—still love the role All lovers play—to reach their goal—Or, seal the pact with fond caress,On moonlit nights.Yes, we no longer climb the nole—For we must know: weVe crossed the shoal Between youth and age—Sacredness I felt when she gave her fond caress Still lingers, as I with time cajole,On moolit nicrhts. —