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Don't drink the wine, it could be blood |
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This torrent could be thine |
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Turbid water cannot glearn |
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Your amity to truth departs |
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The moonlit sky is lightning up in lands where |
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shadows drearn my thoughts |
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I want to deny my frown |
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This war starves out my faith |
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it naughts my peace |
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**** stamps on it's guilt, it crumbles off |
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Ere you were born was beauty summer's dead |
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Find the first conseit of love there bred |
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Faith falling... |
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No bitterness that I have bitter thing |
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Doom's calling |
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Whatever midnight hath been here |
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The flames of love I cannot view |
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So glid my path with thine eyes |
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Winter's cold falling deep |
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Make glad seasons as thou fleets |
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through crystal brooks where silence heats |
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Winning, when I saw myself to lose |
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Ruined love is built anew |
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On thorns rose stand |
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Two mourning eyes thy face |
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Bashful dreams, my soul is fled |
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where late sweet birds sand |
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Solicit your evil minds |
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wandering through the morning fog |
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Through the grove where trees conseil the light |
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Through the leaves, through fallen snow |
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My tears on your skin |
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but water cools not pain |
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from my soul which in thy breast doth lie |
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(It's useless ****ne it may forbear, |
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the weeping days to chase) |
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Find the first conceit of love there bred |
|
Faith falling... |
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No bitterness that I have bitter throught |
|
Doom's calling... |
