An Autumn Love Cycle/Welt
Welt
Would I might mend the fabric of my youthWhich daily flaunts its tatters to my eyes,Would I might compromise awhile with truthUntil love's moon, now waxing, wanes and dies.
For I would go a further while with youAnd drain this Cup of Joy so passing fair,Which meets my parching lips like cooling dew'Ere time has brushed cold fingers through my hair.