In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of love;
And like seeds dreaming of spring beneath the soil your heart dreams of devotion.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to your true intentions.
Your fear of love is but the trembling hand of the loved when she stands before her lover whose hand is to be webbed upon hers in affection.
Is the loved not joyful beneath her trembling, that she shall wear the love of the lover?
Yet is she no more mindful of her trembling?

Whoe'ver the still examines, must define
The wond'rous shifts of the immortal Time;
To kindly witness, the graybeard's silent gaze
From youth to age, from guidebook to learned ways.
Divided only by the fixed life stage,
The youth consults, and the elderly explain.
Slow the transition when the hours date,
From mighty Boy's knees to old aching gait.
While for the Old Man's loss the Young Boy gains,
Old Men comfort and Young Boys wisdom attains.
Here Boy listens to the old learned ways,
There in silent gaze wistful hungry boyhood stays.
Mem'ries and rememb'ring give time for time,
And young knees below, and old above climb.
While simple youngster shake the leg of old,
Experienced veteran like prophet hold,
Eager minds and submission mix their servile roles,
Lads and Late in waiting for their parole.
Smiles and sighs, proverbs and plays life abound,
And form a life-cycle that goes round and round.

***** not your finger as you pluck the white rose.
Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red.
Who are you to color me so?
For your art is beautifully unfinished.
That I wish to wash these stains of my petals.
To think no more of this.