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Rating: 3.0
The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds,
Are lips- and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words-

Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined,
Then desolately fall,
O God! on my funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall-
Thy heart- thy heart!- I wake and sigh,
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Subhas Chandra Chakra 11 September 2016
I wake and sigh, And sleep to dream till day Of the truth that gold can never buy- Of the baubles that it may. A nice piece of poetry, lovely and Adorable.. Subhas
3 0 Reply
* Sunprincess * 16 September 2015
....a most incredible write and stunning realization ? of the truth that gold can never buy
4 0 Reply
Mark Arvizu 12 September 2014
Always so funereal that Poe
4 0 Reply

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