To Love; Young Poem by Jorge Alexandre
To Love; Young
Why can thee not stand besides me
Where I stand,
Though thy earth be with the moon,
And thy ocean with the sand.
How can thee be here not,
I must see thee at noon; thy Lenore,
But what to say and what to do;
I love thee; but I love too soon.
I fear death doth come for me,
And that funeral song is to be sung,
For I love thee,
And I have loved thee; since young.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/15/2024 3:32:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
