Untitled


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I have been, the heart-instrument of grief
Since you left, Not so soon shall music return
Only it’s motion’s sound, I am an echo

Of a touch, a repeated vision of a face
Whose kind acts to me I then forget
The blazon rose-leaf, of another time?

I have waited for love given, not received
Since you left, pangs given from this sighing breast
I am as gull-wing’s width, fit to bend

Under the weight of separation
To illumine a prism in snow, I thought of you
A dangerous thought, it is that love goes to the end

But I am a simple thing, so I keep on loving
And all that sorrow can buy at the last
Is my nothing, or aught else music claims

To know me, and I know her, I care not for sound
The rose does not survive time, only
The burden of her buds remain, this is all love gives

This is all love can tell, a barbed crystal star
A ghost of last spring, I am fairly haunted
A mid-morning thaw, of all the hope in me.

You flowed bright and chill as snow-water
Where I in blue puddles must now rest reflecting cloud.

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