PoetryClaire de lune
Lovers at the Sea
  • Hearken, my dear! The tides are singing
    The hymns of peace and the odes of joy.
    Whispering she: "The gloom that ye bringing
    Shall be sweetened like the love of a boy."

    Shall we wander along the glistening coast
    And sink our feet into the embracing sand?
    Let our psyches float in the majestic boat
    Unshivered by the pain from the departed land.

    Or we can hike to the hill that stands yonder
    And is reigned by the seas of daffodils
    Where we can construct our love nest o'er
    And unite two halves in the night that chills.

    O kiss me, my fall'n angel, with all quarters of thy tender heart.
    Let us drink the elixir from our lips to pass th'pain of the past.
    Shame to the unholy heaven that expelled thee,
    For they were too envious to accept thy divine beauty.

    Wandering we, to the island where the rainbow ends.
    Thereupon, 'tis the place we shall rise hand in hand
    To fore'er rest on the paramount where it bends.
    My! I shall be the merriest man!

    Here, in our rejoining jubilee,
    Where the breeze shall pronounce us,
    And the tides attend with jollity,
    Eternity! Our love shall live thus.

    Hearken, my dear. The tides are singing,
    I say to the urn that I am hugging.
    Dipping I, towards the centre of the earth. 
    Betwixt us, stands only a breath of pain. 
    We shall rise to the garden of mirth.
    And there, we shall live again.



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