A Poem by Couplets

O wand'ring eyes, on what lips do you dwell,
Whose pouting smile bring thoughts no man can tell?
When I from her have neither sound nor word,
Then all the hues and shapes of life are blurred.
Beneath the grove I sit in contemplation
Of one who is my joy and desolation.
I'd hold her near, when my thoughts are unwinding,
Then tie them up, and make her touch a binding,
For distance is to love no harm nor cure,
Except to swell the bruises we endure.
I'd take her hand, if love is an illusion,
To prove or pacify my soul's confusion.
And underneath her arm, against her breast,
I long to stay, where safely I may rest.
Into ecstatic dreams she'd nurture me
Where I refresh myself with reverie;
We'd only rise when morn is far advanced,
Being so much in one embrace entranced.
Then come to me, O thought most prone to stray,
And be for me the evening and the day.



O wand'ring eyes, on what lips do you dwell,
Whose pouting smile bring thoughts no man can tell?
When I from him have neither sound nor word,
Then all the hues and shapes of life are blurred.
Beneath the grove I sit in contemplation
Of one who is my joy and desolation.
I'd hold him near, when my thoughts are unwinding,
Then tie them up, and make his touch a binding,
For distance is to love no harm nor cure,
Except to swell the bruises we endure.
I'd take his hand, if love is an illusion,
To prove or pacify my soul's confusion.
And underneath his arm, against his breast,
I long to stay, where I may safely rest.
Into ecstatic dreams he'd nurture me
Where I refresh myself with reverie,
We'd only rise when morn is far advanced,
Being so much in one embrace entranced.
Then come to me, O thought most prone to stray,
And be for me the evening and the day.