From women like yourself a gentle word
Can make me feel that I am built of lead;
Like scotch, your compliments are full of guile,
Smooth going down, but rushing to the head;
Then drowsily the thought of you takes flight
To where I see myself in cape and hood;
Admiring thus, in faerie shades of light,
I cannot see by you aught else but good.
So fleeting loves will flitter to the clouds,
And drunken dreams goad drunks to jealousy,
But hung at rosy-fingered dawn their vows
Are blown away like mists of fantasy.
Your honest speech which baser minds disdain
Is all my hope to honestly remain.
-Clayton Orr
No comments:
Post a Comment