Over which my angry soul
is pained, compelled to erce a row;
My dove I pray that of this dole
should thou not fret thy perfect brow.
Hapless cause and restless mortal.
Cornered bird and erring child;
Forcing back the sad affrontal,
Hid from their face run wild, run wild.
A place of rest within thy shadow
Beyond the void that haunts our dreams.
Sprint, fly home, my little sparrow.
Spare thy wings from these mournful schemes.
For thou, of all, must shouldst not know:
Remain oblivious to my cries.
And I though blue-veined in the snow
Must be stark summer in your eyes.
Theirs and yours, my clueless urchin.
Theirs and yours or do us part
shall the looming storms most certain
Strike so clean through unknowing heart.
If say the heavens that had wrought
For us on earth this fateful truce:
To be severed, this we ought;
Then for recalling we've no use.
YOU ARE READING
Hartaches and Larksongs
Thơ caElements. ◮ Feebleheart ◮ Of Former Things (Ode To The New) ◮ Hecate and Rosendy ◮ You're A Fire Because I Say So ◮ Time (A Song) ◮ Us Cold People (Were Once Not) ◮ To a dame ◮ Star-eyed Loves ◮ 1/2 From A Boy's Viewpoint (There's This One Girl) ◮ 2...
