Sweet flowers, ah, along the lane
All bloom when I go by
Mystic and gloomy, swear!
All those when glitter not, I
Seek a dew drop upon window-pane

To give a chain of pearls of dream
To my narrow, haughty mind
Which blazes to go in fire
Or which obliged to bind
Tears at all the brim.

Sweet flowers, ah, along the lane
I must see through mane
Of their beauty at the dirge-
Will sing heartedly to attain
All they have main.

I must see through mane
Of their beauty, I must go
To protest them merge
To destruct, either friend or foe
For all, you and I, all die in pain.



12//24/2015