Post by Stanley Brown on Jan 19, 2012 19:57:42 GMT
O but how slow moves Time with lumpen toes
When I am not in thy sweet arms with thee;
What a long passage of time seemeth a day
And each hour hangs in suspension as of eternity!
On wind no song of a little bird is heard
And the sun is sombre-suited like a sleeping mouse;
No scent of blossom sweet assails my nostrils
And no music plays for me in my poor house!
The weeping willow weepeth unbending in stillness
And the ashen-pallored moon shineth not
No stars punctuateth this great infinity of space,
And a great pain in my heart have I got!
On chariot of tragic loss goeth the world and his wife,
Through puddles of black oblivion which lots its way
Oh thou timeless clock with handless face
Tick thou for me, let my woman come for me today!
Thankyou. Stanley.
When I am not in thy sweet arms with thee;
What a long passage of time seemeth a day
And each hour hangs in suspension as of eternity!
On wind no song of a little bird is heard
And the sun is sombre-suited like a sleeping mouse;
No scent of blossom sweet assails my nostrils
And no music plays for me in my poor house!
The weeping willow weepeth unbending in stillness
And the ashen-pallored moon shineth not
No stars punctuateth this great infinity of space,
And a great pain in my heart have I got!
On chariot of tragic loss goeth the world and his wife,
Through puddles of black oblivion which lots its way
Oh thou timeless clock with handless face
Tick thou for me, let my woman come for me today!
Thankyou. Stanley.
