July 18, 2011
I could not hear the mockingbird Singing of the day's delight, So strong the dream that held me close Wrapped in darkest folds of night, We lived together but apart And few the words of kindness said, Why does she come, this soul I love Appearing from the realms of dead With ash the only memory Spread beneath a sacred tree. It is not she, of that I'm sure, This angel of divinity, The one thing in my life so pure Who kept me on the upward path When I would walk unconsciously Through life and love without a thought Arriving where I should not be. Now in y dreams she seems so cold Detached fro all the warmth I knew, The gentle word, the caring touch With love-filled eyes, a heart that few In this harsh world could ever know, Cam her spirit midst the pace Of unrelenting time and fate, Why know this being with her face To trouble me, spewing hate, As I awake to the truth of day And all nocturnal demons slay.
Poems Undated (1727)
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