Adam Fuller Poems

Any sentient being knows
The birth and rebirth of a rose –
Or, really, any other flower;
All unfold in a seeming hour,
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At first was giv’n a fleeting sign
Of winter warned and flower’d thorn;
Not of note or of great design,
Still it caused the angels to mourn.
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The other day you said to me,
“Sift through all your memory
And tell me, if compelled to decide,
In which confine you would abide
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How covert can a dagger be
Impaled in the negligent heart,
Who from their mindless sanctity see
No knowledge of use impart?
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‘Twixt darkened clouds of rampant rain
(Beleaguered by gusts of snowy drift) –
As to bless the trees, the sunlight fain
Would, as it could, persistently strain
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I know not e’en if in my heart
Your face is held in love’s esteem,
Or, as it seems to me, a beam
Between us keeps our lives apart.
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