Love At Last So Dearly Great, No More Time, Woe So Late.... Poem by Michael Gale

This heart this bleeding heart....
Doth beat, that hurting part.
Pain of love can slay as ache...
Love lets no prisoners take.

We are powerless in facts of pain...
No love was lost but not yet to gain.
This heartt that hurts that tender most...
Beats on achingly, beyond sense of host.

Wronged sorrow lends ears to heart....
Beateth on fro end of start.
Angered sweetness does grace my own...
Love at last had i learned to hone.

Sharpest lust of sharpest state...
Love more of me to not let sate.
No more time, woe so late....
Love at last so dearly great.