Home ยป Matter of love

Oh, everlasting; forsake not for joy,
I am but snow that falls upon ye so well,
Whom so none never but the path I fall,
Ceases my days fall’n as yore for mine melts
Upon hand thine the touch once so, so cold;
Effects a heat so dear now my heart knows;
Or blinks at mine eyes whose glare did tremble,
Whence the lids that close so too mine a mure,
To tell thee not knowledge but substance mine here
This much my siblings as cold but falls through;
For breathes we the air the same, more the ways
Known to tell the walk we gesture and bear,
Alights at the core of Earth, and so we are;
As while thus descend we contrary go,
Whose wings never burnt and mine only but few,
Because none shall I need for fairer thine,
While this, so shall heart o’mine plead for heed.