Many A Night I Ask The Stars On High
Many a night I ask the stars on high,
For whom a sylph aloft like thee would fall.
They neither crawl away nor draw on nigh,
Seeming not care to heed my plea at all.
Yet I would not dispense with them tonight,
For fear of missing any signs they give.
Ev'n though my hope looks fainter than their light,
I’d still believe, if it’s but just reprieve;
Even though thou mayst never answer me,
I’d wait for thee as long as I’m to live.
Just like my stars are there in constancy
For me, the more for thee I will to strive.
For love is more, to love still unrequited,
As angels ever guarding, yet ne’er sighted.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006