Monday 8 December 2008

And of my weeping something has been left, which must now die

And of my weeping something has been left, Which must die now
Tell me when, How much
Sorry eyes have taken in, And then repelled
There is no evening sorrow too soon or slow, For love's door
Dream again now, Night comes sure
Empty-armed, Enfolded, Sleep tight my love
The morning will beckon us once more
First light is in our breaking