The wind is shut whilst long I give,
And so the voices go astray,
This much I try the more to live,
As much I lay in dark foray,
May ash bear wreaths with utter stay,
Where I go from hither to close,
Bleed a silent weep better lay,
Casts mine eyes deep to he that froze,
At once he stayed to fend his word,
But once I stood in the midst,
Then finally proved his false world.

Category:
Life, Poetry, Romance, Works
Tags:
, , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: