It’s just for fun, this beat we keep,

Like skipping lines to land on squares.
So come, you’ll do it, too. We’ll sweep
Along the Boston streets, no cares,
Your hand in mine, a late May day,
All final tests passed for a time—
A season more. So come and play,
And just for fun, we’ll make a rhyme!
We’ll cross the Common, ducks unstressed
In strict parade, though lovers clutch.
But stressed, unstressed, we want no rest;
Life’s beat entrains us overmuch.
Insidious intent may stalk
Through streets of Beacon Hill, tonight,
And hey, the Tambourine Man walk
Into the jingle-jangle light.
But we shall keep a perfect beat,
It matters not uphill or down,
If all the turnings of the street
But end at dawn in Boston town.
So kiss me, dear; this is the time
That comes but once in any song;
Come meet my lips in perfect rhyme
As lovers have the ages long.

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