(every = ev-er-y)
On things I have said I pride myself not,
And beg I thee now that it all is forgot,
And forgive me now for this agony must,
Address the infernal concept of lust,
Which tortures me every portion of day,
And night, though fortune and fortitude may,
Settle me now for an impotent time,
Before that which is hardly settled in rhyme,
Assails again my soul and my mind,
With no ready solution for me to find.
I fooled my heart to think love so deep,
Existed so easily for mine to reap,
And surely desire be not just a jest,
To awaken just every heart now at rest?
The storm of my life is not what would seem,
With music of Grainger* in every dream.
On things I have said I pride myself not,
And beg I thee now that it all is forgot,
Where may it vanish in the sea and the storm,
Of discontent hearts that never seem warm.
*Percy Aldridge Grainger (1882-1961)
Oh, to be awakened. What an exhortaion!
ReplyDeleteThat's why I can't stay silent.