DID the Angel lose her bell,
To the lover's glee?
Down Spring's Well -
Grows her Widow Tree.

Did you sound the Summer's tease?
Echoed o'er August Eve -
In its delicate breeze,
Our Heavenly Reprieve.

My loving RIVER runs to thee,
Sorrow's sea, shalt thou welcome me?

My loving river awaits thine eyes,
Gentler than Summer's skies.

I’ll fetch thy beating heart,
And hold it to my own - never to depart.

Hold back thy river!
O! - Cease my shiver!

Against the clashing tides,
I shall lament thee, with teary eyes.

O! - Hold back the river’s tide!
For once, be by my side!

Alas! - Sorrow's sea!
Sweep me away, to love’s decree.

AS if thou are the Winter,
That brightens my Summer’s day,
Never to splinter -
Shielded from death’s decay.

Under the graces of the Sun,
Within Spring's flowers -
Your love, I hath won,
During Sorrow's showers.

Our NIGHT was wide -
With just a single star,
Above the shore's tide,
Where Angels watched from afar.

Breezy Autumn Eve,
With its Heavenly brush,
Painted our reprieve -
A Scarlet Blush.

Not a Soul went abroad -
To cease the Drums,
That gently applaud,
Under your thumbs.

Feel the fire stoke,
Beneath your grasp -
Donning Love's cloak,
Prithee me to gasp!

Now the Swans Sing,
Within Love's Gown -
The Serenity Spring,
Where I Drown.

WILD nights! Daily frights!
Where I with thee -
Under the neon lights,
Shall see our luxury!

Anchor my heart,
In Heaven's port -
Done with the chart,
Done with the court.

Rowing in Heaven's decor!
Silver sea!
Might I but moor
Tonight with thee?

The WAY I read thy letter is this -
With a locked iron door,
Chains off my wrist,
Laid on the chamber floor.

And then I am Serene,
To counteract a knock -
Never to be seen,
Never to pick the lock.

My eyes drift to the wall,
Upon the glooming clock,
For when I hear a call -
My love ship must dock.

Here in Serene I shall rot,
To the delights you know!
And sob for lack of Heaven - but not
The Heaven thou bestow.

From all beings we desire increase,
So our own garden may nev'r wilt,
Nev'r to falter with time decrease,
Fading in the folds of the quilt.
Bound only to thy own eyes,
I add flames to the fire, as mine own fuel
Burden'd by lamenting lies,
Thyself thy foe - so sweet and cruel.
Confront me with thy ascent,
To the sweetest serenity spring,
Where I shall inurn mine own content
And tender love, with the waste they bring.
        Pity this ordinary I abode, along with he;
        To englut his sagacious selfishness - by the grave and thee.