What sluggish wind, by our love, may pervade now tell
The love, which flew over the lea will see that wind
Whose caressing hands were it's cause to spell
Or, years which grown pale by thy deny were really kind?
What the leaf-fringed horizon, again, bewitch us?
What pensiveness, out of acquaintance, did fuss
So that we, palpably were too unfit to attain.

Now thou can't be my prey, as thou art thyself aimed
They've the land, own, which I fell part in these
They've South wind which warm thee, and mine tamed
He is none but thy one, fire-evidently who did please
Thee; I'm in none, try or evidence, nor so keen
One whom I loved- nor have I, nor could have been
Yet I, out of grief, grown between thee and I, obtain.

Now, it's explored- thy deny is my cause to sore
'Twas petty heard, vast unheard by me to thy command
Although, 'twas asif the Sun was under clouds before
And earthly furnace increased density by own hand
Not to allow the Sun to peep through, into the earth
As the earthly furnace itself is her aftermath.
So, asif to be a diurnal flower towards the Sun I gain.


01/24/2016

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