While pen and paper I possess
Along with Muse, my soul to bless
These poems, like a stream, will flow
And you will be the first to know
Dear reader, that my rhyme, though poor
At least, might reach your deep heart’s core
To win from you a willing ear
Forgive me if I interfere
But I will bleed in line and verse
A secret sorrow I do nurse
Good taste forbids me speak her name
For pain of poet she’s to blame!
And of this pain I’ll gripe and grieve
Upon this tear-stained tattered sleeve
Forgive me, please indulge this fool
I’m uncomposed and can’t stay cool
I’m touching poets’ well known themes:
The dashing of his cherished dreams
The tearing of his tender heart
The lovesick lover torn apart
Withhold your judgment friend and foe
For though this happened long ago
The wound is raw; it’s open still
So, if you have some time to kill
Let words of warning be to you
This poet’s tale of love untrue
And if you cannot feel for me
Beware yourself of first love’s tree
For she will smile and you will melt
Not ever love like this you’ve felt!
Yes, love tastes sweet ’neath youthful bowers
At first, but soon like sin it sours
And you may yearn a lifetime long
To hear once more her sweetest song
But rarely, so I won’t presume
Romance and first love may resume
But that, dear friend’s, another tale
And patently beyond the pale
For those who sorrow’s overcome
Of love that conquers, I’ll stay shtum!