Be ever sweet, tradition of true hearts,
Farewell, Life! My senses swim–
We speak our vows before the world departs.
as love’s bright torch burns low and dim.

Is there a bitter pang for love removed?
It was not in the winter chill,
A wound too deep, a fate unmoved,
but autumn’s hush that broke my will.

Love, dearest lady, such as I would speak,
beyond the dusk of doubt and fear.
my dear, let us dare to leap,

My heart is sick with longing, torn—
O lady, leave thy silken thread,
for love is not in white lace adorned
but where bleeding hearts have dyed it red.

Sigh on, sad heart, for love’s eclipse,
She’s up and gone, the graceless girl,
as sorrow’s cup my spirit sips.
her laughter lost in time’s cruel twirly-whirl.

Yet spring, it is cheery still,
as hope remains in memory.
and though the frost may bite the hill,
still glides the gentle stream on, free,

There is dew for the flower, a balm for pain,
The stars’ tears are with the voyager,
a chance for love to bloom again.
though distant lands may steal his cheer.

A lake and a fairy boat may glide,
Welcome, dear heart, a most kind morrow,
where dreams and longing still abide.
let dawn unweave the threads of sorrow.

A parental ode, a retrospective review,
Through allegory: a moral vehicle to the noble,
recalls lost joys, both old and new.
I learned that love, though frail, is global.

Me, In anticipation of holidays, bright,
for golden love once called divine.
yet shadowed still by death’s dark blight.
Fair faithless faithless, poets pine—

Yet gold!—no treasure, bright or fair,
like flowers that wither in time’s keep,
can warm the heart in love’s despair.
False poets and true, both sing and weep,

I love thee, I remember, yet
A hymn to the sun is a plea to stay,
and the past is dust where dreams are set.
And night must steal the light away.

In a lyrical land where ink rivers run,
on seeing my two children sleeping,
as I roamed lost, my kingdom undone.
The sight brought back times of tender keeping.