I found thee againeth t'is evening-
Bathed in naughty candlelight!
Son of th' moon, knight of th' night-
dance again, as th' day's closing!
Look how th' fir tree starts smiling-
beneath t'ose winds, t'ose hailing winds!
And 'tis force smooth on thy young skin-
as ****** as t'is pretty spring.
Swim, swim againeth in my gay soul!
O how happiness thou but spit-
into my life's dark and bland pit.
Tame as th' deer, sweet as th' foal.
And benign be t'ese stubborn horns-
by songs t'at cheer as on thou hum.
Love t'at spreads through th' airless room;
like flowers t'at nourish their thorns.
T'at tangled bush of jealousy
Swarms of grief and studied envy
All melt'd away on'th sight of thee;
like foliage and its brown tree.
And o, how thy gaze charmed me more!
Gaily didst I stretch like a rose-
or princess in an epic prose!
Ah, t'at handsome face and suit thou wore.
I smileth and stareth at th' ceiling
Composeth t'is love poem is silence.
To myself but I kept chuckling-
upon thy merry remembrance.
How I still love thee-and want thee!
'Tis still thee t'at could giveth me warmth.
One to be cradled in my arms-
my half flesh and true destiny!
Thou art my hue and sweet rainbow
Shots of purplish and violet haze.
But th' streets are a fiendish maze;
Not I seeth thee from my window.
O, and as I layeth on my pillow
Well of smoothness and pure whiteness-
unhastened by dreams and madness!
'Gain I wasth struck by'a love arrow!
I loveth thee, I loveth thee alone
Thou art th' wealth of my stories-
guilt t'at befriends fears and worries.
It's thy heart t'at I should hath won!
Selfish, o might be I but sound
To claim thee as my own mercy!
My foreign hopes and lunacy-
but not austere as t'ey might'th found.
And t'is confession doth I make-
beforeth our sky and dear'st heavens!
Undereth th' whisper of lanterns-
when all asleep ye' I'm awake.
My thee, my thee, come back to me!
Fix just on me thy glance once more-
t'ose tender eyes, just like before!
Lips grand with raw vivacity.
I'll be right t'ere-my love, my love,
waitin' for a red fallen star.
Then thou wilt cometh down from afar-
and fly my wan soul like a dove.
Fulleth of love is th' May summer,
greenness in'th front yard of the church.
And blissful am I like a birch-
as thou tied my heart one gay noon.
And raiseth I in cheers and splendour;
as thou awe me with thy fond spell!
Then joy shalt become our dell-
and love our prosperous harbour.