All in all through dwindling light
Is felt the lovers delight
The beautiful, tender tragedy of love
Sung in prose by angels above
Love, is a moss covered thorn bed
The many poets it has misled
I confess I too fell for loves gleam
But alas ''twas but a hopeless dream
Only in the light of a flickering candle
Could I have realized such scandal
That I could never be the only one
Wanted by many, but loved by none
YOU ARE READING
through toil and chance
PoetryPoetry for the doers and the dreamers. Poetry for the lovers and the fighters. Poetry for the soul seeker and the self lover. Poetry for the misfits and the outcast. Poetry for the classicist and poetry for the modernist. Pictures featured are not...
