Dulcet Time Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Dulcet time is always coming,
When the clouds are away with tears;
Little birds in trees are humming,
New songs from forgotten years.

Pleasing love is color blooming,
To sweetest you who is so dear;
All the seeds in earth are booming,
Reaching out for growth and flare.

Trust me you will likewise be glad,
When in your garden roses grow;
And take away your lonesome sad,
That from winter past did show.

Pleasing love is color blooming,
To sweetest you who is so dear;
All the seeds in earth are booming,
Reaching out for growth and flare.

My eyes wander throughout the night,
Looking to a faraway star;
This blazes out its twinkle light,
Without knowing who we are.