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As Love will carve dear names upon a tree,
Symbol of gravure on his heart to be, So thought I thine with loving text to set In the growth and substance of my canzonet; But, writing it, my tears begin to fall -- This wild-rose stem for thy large name's too small! Nay, still my trembling hands are fain, are fain Cut the good letters though they lap again; Perchance such folk as mark the blur and stain Will say, `It was the beating of the rain;' Or, haply these o'er-woundings of the stem May loose some little balm, to plead for them. Unsatisfied? Search for more:Other Cool Sites:Hot Arts & Stage NewsLyrics Catalogue Sound Tracks Guide Guide to Serials and Shows English Subtitles For DivX Movies Hundreds of Cooking Recipes Over 5000 Cocktails Recipes Cool Online Encyclopedia Cellulars Descriptions and Reviews Algorithms Dictionary Funny Jokes and Anecdotes. Usenet Newsgroups Reader |