The Wish

The Wish, my dear, the heart has still

Embodied in its bloody frame,

A wish that you and I might till

The fertile ground of holy frame.

The hope that at some distant hour

The wish in substance find,

The love of life within the bower,

Of this our earthly mind.

Blest be the wish of which I dream

In vacant hours of night,

Border be the right of which I deem

Sacrifice greater than right.

By day and night, in death and life,

My heart no longer free

Shall rise above this worldly strife

And answer to the key.

The key? - ah, why this question ask?

When full well you know,

That the lock with its frail mask

Must with wild winds blow.

Oh, were the days with passion rent,

And would my mind be numb,

Would my life a moving tent

Controlled by things less glum.



Thank you for reading my first poem! well, its not really mine. My great grandad did (the date on the bottom is when it was completed) but I wanted to share them.