To when the lark shall sing me down the crust
And plant my best, for best you gave in me
And will; no coffin carry then my dust
For yours that blooms within, in death shall be.
Then from such love would sprout a blushing rose
And pierce the soil of bones to eye my stone.
No seasoned force compel your love repose
As when our pairing winds; had sought and blown.
Complex the flower's dye that shades of red
That spectrum meet our love of first to new
And tho' I lay in mine own final bed
Into that sunset find and live that hue.

Tho' each a drop you shed by way of grief
Shall too from rose then fall; a petal'd leaf.

the springtime sun is zenith near the noon
caroming ray-beams twinkle tips of dills
and stipple violet limbs with specs of boon
that sparkle lime upon the yonder hills

unvarnished whitish patches paste the sky
azure befriends the fluffy glands of spring
as watchful father plays and hides the eye
then bides no shade, but back the glows it bring

far choirs of nimble scouts forage the plains
a southern breeze resounds the chirping worth
which sings to beats of rustling; newer gains
orchestral music plays the mother's mirth

the floral rainbow births a budding maze
how baptized! richly soils that hue the lobes
an honor flowed with winter's snowy glaze
for waters were the forest's frozen robes

a flower's cycle lends to thoughts in own
that spectrum grown and splayed; shall too within
partake in growth for life that's vast to roam
and plumes from sprouting wings shall leaf herein

this castle built has walled the inner child
as whispers gasp to breach, but pierce no steel
for father brained that lungs are voices wild
that mouthfuls aren't a streaming bile to wheel

about this throne is ringed a wavy moat
no sand to crown, just swimming bait to dwell
to catch the Venus tongue for none can boat
as sails are none to search the misty shell

now cunning are the roses; leaving trails,
of red tip petals pruned to meet mine eye
and she from out the haze shall tap her nails
then in the window shield, and out my shy

tho' thickened armor mazes; brain and chest
the fairest shall then solve and twine a nest

O' how I miss and mourn for mother's voice
That swiftly passed like Autumn's southern breeze
And took from Spring one less an Angel choice
That left my heart amongst the fallen leaves.
Appears the blossom tips were seeped that pain
As petals shader dark as love in mine
It too resounds in all the bird's refrain
As tho' their sadly tones; has mine assign.
Ah soon will summer rays then pierce my mourn
And shine that glow to when I lived a child
For mother's love is where my summer's born
And out that love my own has since been styled.

O' mother, yes mama I miss you more!
Than all the seasons brought and past before.

If hearts knew sense then would the heart flow love
For prior to that streaming lease of joy
A sense will warn, as duty bounds behove;
Foretelling pain; that'll meet the heart's deploy.
And renders love reversal for a while
The broken down duration known by none,
Is here that sense would leave the heart to rile;
To chance the pain or curb where love had won.
Ah! Idle hearts are spawning grounds for hate
One taste of bile deters to love; from most
Then spite of sense would love rejoice to mate
And any lesser cause; a morbid host.

If heart's took sense, then still would lover's glow
For better than; what loveless hearts do know.

O' why am I that one without a nest?
I must love self enough to single 'lone,
I dare to not believe, for self-love's jest
It's likely Venus whom had left my throne.
A royal seat at sea with none in view
For deep the fairest swim, so knows the King
Whom fishes with no bait nor love *****
Without a depth of love to show or bring.
Could crown adorn a weaker, brittler core
Than outward form suggests of armored chest
Of thickened steel so made by love before.
I am that which had made a hermit best!

To all of whom I've blamed, and parted love
Forgiveness be, then I to self thereof.

Shall I reveal how oft my thoughts of yours?
As plenty as the stars do maze the sky
And each their shooting spec with their explores
And sparkle they; as lit my inner eye.
O' I too think of you; when skies are blue
They flutter with the birds of snowy white
Then as the feathers fall, as does for you;
Each plume affix with love of mine recite.
I wonder you; no more than waves can bring
No less than all the shells who whisper love,
But even more than petals of the Spring.
Give thoughts to voice, and you have heard your dove.

To count the granules of a sandy beach
Would number thoughts, much more than I could teach.