This Enchantment - The Heart Poem by Peter S. Quinn

This enchantment that stays never the same,
The heart is a lonesome match to each play;
Like that of a flickering fire burning flame,
Nothing that distracts it shall be or stay.
Like the hours of autumns tinctured in dyes,
Mornings brought after the beauty is gone;
Flowers of the fields have each their disguise,
But the feelings of sweet hours have veiling none.

Heavens and clouds every splendors display,
Golden borders that embraces the sky,
Confusing never - always in its divine!
Heart is like earth or thunder - in a still day,
New flowers in the fields – spring in its high,
Feelings confounded through the eyes that shine.