i have no more to spend of heart or grace,
nor coin of hope to buy another dawn.
yet in thine green eyes I find a fleeting place,
like warmth that lingers when the fire is gone.
the winds grow cold, the seasons lose their hue,
& Time, that tyrant, marks our brief estate.
still pup, let me dream the tender dream of you,
though all the stars foretell a faded fate.
please, lend thy hand, and let me call thee mine,
though only shadow binds thy soul to me.
for love, when lost, still seeks a form divine,
& finds its echo where it used to be.
if all must end, then end upon this plea.
pretend thou art my world, though it deceive.