Saturday, 12 November 2011

Will not let this pass

For Long he loved her arduous spring 
Desiring their tales to finally meet
When at last strength’s arm he took
To declare his story to whom salted his dreams

Dear Woman* the sweetest smelling spring I know
The joy which for months captivated my soul.
I compare thee not to a summer’s day
But to heaven’s months which knows no end. 
You are by far the prettiest rose 
The first fruits plucked from summer’s return.

I sit you here not to charm your heart, but a truth to tell your innocent mind.
For long my heart loved you dear, but fear I now, it was all in vain.
Nay the journey is sweet to the end, though the end one fails to see.
Its clear like the brightest summer’s day that I am fond of your girlish ways.
I sleep and wake with you in mind, with splendid beam and a serene mind
Of nought thought strange till imaginations fail, discontent till the real displayed.
You this picture worth a million gold, I cannot purchase unless for free. 
For this my life to death I’ll give, like Herc I’ll jump into Hades to free
Whatever it is may hold your soul from me.
Here I must pause and stare your starred eyes, beauty unimaginable I have dreamed to have
For I could not let you pass this voyage with my love unseen 
Do what you may with it but please - be kind. 

With a tender smile he ended his speech 
To end the months he loved her scene 
What she prays may forlorn or extol his soul
At least was glad to have sang such songs.  

*Woman could be the name of any woman in fact it is better read with a name in place.


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