Bad winds
Small breeze
Hollow ice
Autumns now shall shine
Oceans
Moveless eventide
Far away from sight
From the moonlight brink of dreams
I stretch foiled hands to thee
O borne down other streams
Than eyes can think to see!
My dreams and thoughts abate
Their pennons at your feet
O angel born too late
For fallen men to meet!
What new emotion must
I dream to think you're mine?
What purity of lust?
So tendrilled as a vine
In what new sensual state
Could our lives feel sweet?
My dreams and thoughts abate
Their pennons at thy feet
O angel born too late
For fallen men to meet!
What new emotion must
I dream to think you're mine?
What purity of lust?
So tendrilled as a vine
Around my caressed trust!
I dream to think you're mine?
What purity of lust?
So tendrilled as a vine
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