Wednesday, 21 August 2019

God will be my Judge

Her beauty is the end of my dreams
The shore on which my journeys end.
To think that this filial faith
Would deliver a golden gleam,
God will be my Judge
If for her was only a fickle fancy.
But ghastly in this gladsome glow
I look on as in a dream
For, in reality, she loves someone else;
But single yet, too well I know
She adores another,
And with giddiness, she will pass me by.
Long I thought, I have naught to loose
The only question is,
Begin my mourning now or then!
Or take out my heart and give it to her
To do with it whatever she please.


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