Fallen silken roses -
once full, of life’s supposes -
of how, our dreams should be.
If it so, that I could fly on wings
of silken sonnets, all discontent,
like rain, would flow into the
oceans wide and deep, that I may
no longer, perchance, to keep,
those empty spoken promises
Let from your lips never be heard
rhapsodies, of love unstirred,
spoken out loud, if devotion, be not
yours to give.
I shall not stricken from affection
unshown, or weep for lovers
still unknown –
Like nature, always on the run
as winter wrestles with the sun,
if true your love, for me, – be false
buried deep, in winter's lament
I look only, for days, of
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