a requiem to our dream escapes
some love-lost lips anticipate
some long-lost reward, still yet to come
perhaps, or not, if there be one.
in golden gales and exploding sky
if or when yours should meet mine
i imagine nothing passing by
of worthy note, or memory.
i should think that years apart would
make fonder yet some fonding hearts;
yet i am wanting of quiet sympathy
perhaps without which i'm unlovely.
in all in all the worst to come
must be the break of expectation.
i declare, it's no good to care
when loving flees like seeds in air.
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