A Proper Bed

A bed should be a quiet pool
And not a roiling, foamy flume;
Beware the signs of turbulence--
Look, look! A ripple mars the sheet.
A bed should be a happy nook,
A refuge from one's waking ills,
A glade with serenading quail
And mounds of moss to nestle in.
A bed could be for one or two,
But only if the bedframe holds;
A crippled craft may run aground
Right when a storm of love intrudes.
No, never crowd a bed with three:
The oddest duck will take a fall
And sleep on floorboards underneath,
Defrocked of his own camisole.