Sunday, March 25, 2012


Boreas, by John William Waterhouse, 1903

cruel hours mark the steps of time in vain
one lover's joy is other lover's pain
with hands of hope each petal of the rose
is unplucked, soft, as if by mighty rain

all love's complaints ascend to heavy skies
in feathered worries and in dusty eyes
and endless heartache melts to untold vows
as liquid longing flows from teary sighs

in waiting lonely lips breathe out despair
dreams fly away and vanish in thin air
until the precious moment when your love appears
and all is beautiful again, and true, and fair...

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