Under the rose will I tell you
The moon is our only home.
Look at the face shaded in pale,
Which no longer is as of tale.
In thus clime, there are many subtle;
Nothing glides, but changes without inkle.
Dry your sweat, O my best partner,
Since I mine, against back b'dagger.
O gray stream which is called beauty
By mistake overwhelms steady
Previously, charming, your structure.
-
Author:
lvdgone (
Offline) - Published: May 13th, 2023 20:20
- Comment from author about the poem: About love under control.
- Category: Love
- Views: 1
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.