I find that she waits silently,
At that same broke, all too wry;
Soon she said and thus walks there,
So better to have her in rest,
More that I shall delay my words,
To tell the way, and so be heard,
Rushing through the sheets and tear,
Blushing red my poison this love sinks,
Breathes a tender scent ne thought,
Nor be lying to my senses here,
How far I shall walk to walk,
Now close but so far from her,
Myself rather;- am only distant,
By sea and land and only air;
I shall summon a bridge to cross,
I shall tie a knot to see her through,
By blind rehearse now shall see again,
The victim mine heart pretend no more,
As wrung mine eyes in rock to free,
Looks eastward and she looks away.

Mysterious, Poetry, Works
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