stanza of thee

you are the dew upon the fields of my imagination
the beauty of moon beams upon the solemn midnight snow
you are that which enlightens my soul
engraves the serenity of the morning unto all that I feel
for how could the majesty of the moon and the sea
compare with all the beauty in whom which is thee


the soul brings

nothing as lasting as death’s repose
is that which is love’s solemn woe
what is that which aches the heart
is that which enwove the mind with hope
let the light engrave unto the whole
let all that which brought life bringeth unto the soul

light thy hope

The soften of the linen of time, Forms unto my mind
Memories of loves subdue tenderness, gentle raptures upon thy heart
exceeded only by memories yet to be, hopeful figments immense on thy mind
fantasias of all that beauty conceived, a wonder unto thy soul of love beckoning to be
barren thy will for it is not thy hand, full is thy heart for it beseech the well
unto thy heart brimming with life, the blessing dew of hopes first morning light


Yonder goes thy youth unto the past forevermore
For what eternity does not see is that which I need
The unbridled tempt of the heart the conviction of the soul
For thy love I see no bounds of that which I may yield

Cast the mountain into the deep until the crest cannot be seen
I spoke the words of youthful taste now I say that which I believe

May I verse unto the love of all renowned
Until the stars cast shadows below, until the sea cries no more
And when eternity removes its shattered veil
For that is when I shall know thy beloved loves as well

young ways

A sweet refrain as time once became, the cherishment not an evanescence
The sweet record as of hours upon, the heart repose on what had been become
Hallowed essence of the foundation, the crest of love’s mountain high
A chord in tune with a symphony, a note sung throughout all time
Embellishment it has always been, yet a manifest of hope upon my heart it became
Of what remembrance of all that is, my heart is tint with such glorious bliss
A pseudo fear I see for my days, a spring of hope I evoke to ease my passing ways
Such modest grace upon a splendid face of love to never be, blessed is the epoch of my younger days

the path

Remembrance of thy artistic tryst
A manifestation of once love’s bliss
A solemn walk upon life’s narrow course
A heart hallow beating out of monotony and nothing more
The path which lead unto nevermore
A soul which cries neither or
Lay on the well worked foot path of once behold
Lay unto time and nothing more