After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
In the intensity of its fires,
There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.
So after Love has led us, till he tires
Of his throes, and torments, and desires,
Comes large-eyed Friendship: with a restful gaze.
He beckons us to follow, and across
Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.
Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
Why are we haunted by a sense of loss?
We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.
why is it when I look in your eyes,
I see the love burning inside me.
why is it w
I want to live in a world
where nobody is afraid
to fall in love
or admit
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaningful walk,
my sleeping angel
I opened my eyes and saw an angel
I took his hand and he lead m
It was a late night in September,
The beginning of autumn,
When the image of a st
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
Are the words you'd hear Will Shakespeare say.<
Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a
If you awake to one more dreary day,
an empty heart with empty hours to kill,
rem
So I guess I could lie and say I tried,
But the truth I can't deny,
I loved you,
I have a feeling deep in my heart.
It feels like the fire of a flame.
It feels of
