62,404 poems read
O tis thee, more Venus than
From springs that spring to Fall,
Upon thy whispered lips of busses
Of I - Edenic's poem enthralls.
But ah, what Winter chill unfurls
Thy eyes in warmth of spring,
Unattainable, is thy song
That still- within me sings.
But oh, yon distant star that hides
I faint! I fail! I fall!
Ere thy kisses ebb forever-
Knowing Death will call...