'Is Now The Hour Descending?'(M.P.Bridger)
Is now the hour descending?
To tell her what there lies
Beneath these downcast musings,
Behind lugubrious eyes?
I'll tell her when the mountains
Crash down into the sea,
When rushing streams flow backwards
And flowers spurn the bee.
I'll tell her my heart's secret
When stars shine through the day
And athiests from Hades
Fall on their knees and pray.
She'll know my truest feelings
When birds detest the trees,
When floods occur in deserts
And Hell begins to freeze.
I'll tell her how my heart beats
Each time she comes to view
When buttercups turn purple
And dandelions are blue.
I'll tell myself the answer
Which any fool can see;
She looks like Aphrodite
But never looks at me.
Is now the hour descending?
I'd never be that brave
And honour knows these musings
Must lie within my grave.
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