Peter S. Quinn Poems

Dance, dance, little summer wind!
there are no winter's chagrined,
yesterdays gone
into new dawn,
...

I feel now old though young
for poetic verses I long:
the night is dark
with glistening spark,
...

This love is only dead or else it's born
Into the trouble that before life lies,
I swear that mood grows allot of the awn
With delicate poison that into earth dries;
...

This time renews each moment like a blink
Though we walk in a world without a name,
With questions that attend to be the same
Each onward step to the future's like a brink;
...

All things must past what of day is here born
First it gives pleasure and then it is gone,
Like a glow from dawn's new early pylon
Light of the day that to dark is forsworn;
...

I'll always love you like new spring that comes
And turns my soul to the fresh and the new,
Summer seedlings that soon be of autumns
Like in morning's the sweetest of fallen dew;
...

Give me a hope of love if my heart breaks
Whatever is here waiting I wonder,
In all my thoughts drift away and ponder
As the mind again to reality awakes;
...

Love's all in the after hours I asume
Like beautiful inspiring mood from inside,
The milder descending ingrowing bloom
That within the roots of the heart will hide;
...

How strange's this feeling so full of a fright:
When hours are deeper and darker more still,
When there is no room for the heavenly light
And nothing of love shall prosper at will;
...

Is there a love song once more in your heart,
Pleasures new giving that slept all before;
Where is this leading where will it start,
Shall you be fulfilled with even some more.
...