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.