O how a rose does bloom in the Spring
Much my fancy tickling
Its redness pure, so beautiful
Its redness sweet, so bright and full
...
A misty morning covering
A silent shroud of dew
The birds above, all hovering
Are discovering the morning new
...
Upon an Autumn's breezy night
I beheld an awful sight
For two days of our wedding nigh
I beheld my lover die
...
Victor the Imperial
Rich in material
Thought himself ethereal
In every respect
...
Autumn stumbles in
Gradually she appears
She displays her humble grin
And drops her grateful tears
...
On a hill stand I
And have always been bound
Rooted, keeping an eye
Far below on the little town
...
As bright as the stars dancing in the winter night
Forming a bright shroud o'er the wet, yellowing grass
Ever so pretty, yet with much might
Between bowing boughs' forks, it gathers in mass
...
The Poet Yearning
A poet I wish
A poet to be
For people to read
My poetry
And maybe to laugh
Or perhaps to cry
And maybe I'll be known
By and by
A poet I hope
A poet to be
The hope is strong
Burning within me
And maybe I will
Eventually
Be the poet
I long to be