She mocked him from her balcony on high.
"No-one like thee," came her refrain,
"Who shall have me;" and her disdain
Made but a tear from out his eye,
And drew a sigh.
And should he cry?
And should he ask the heavens why?
For which the raindrops fell like grain,
Now but the rainbow to remain,
He, with unburdened breast, to softly fly.
He kissed a friend and trusted him to Death.
No coins for heroes in his time,
No pyre grand, no song nor rhyme,
Just ashes in the summer's breath.
So much for time, for Time demands his due.
A moment woken, one more dazed,
A morning pure, a noontime crazed,
An afternoon of measured hue,
And of the world the soul can know no more
Save what it brings to endless rest.
Oh, treasure all your moments, lest
The evening knocks upon your door.
Never could he shake the shadow of regret
That spoke of each mistake in memory and vignette.
Oh! softly doth it wake the sleeper in his debt
And in the midnight make the waters violet.
And so to love again was hardly his desire,
But in the night, in vain to quench the inner fire,
Her memories remain, and he longed to be by her.
Thus was his soul resigned to whither way it went,
Until her heart enjoined his own, in Heaven-sent
To find the spring repined in years of roving spent,
And fond to gaze behind at where the hours went.
Love is something that you find
Out of sight, and out of mind-
Round the corners and the bends,
With the vagaries entwined.
Love, it moves, and love, it ends,
Love is trembling in your hands
And the quiver in your voice
Trusting where your choler wends.
Love, it turns men into boys,
Hatching schemes and scheming ploys
Ever crumbling, for the Fates
Have all lovers as their toys.
And on Love your world it waits,
And your will inebriates
Till the dimming dawn; and yet
Nothing of your love abates.
Love, no matter lost or met,
Is as potent, left or let;
Ever do its sinews bind,
Ever as in stonework set.
Love is bitter, love is blind,
But, oh!- never do forget-
As you make the paths that wind,
Never leave your love behind.