Hold there,
The rose that caught our tears
Of each thing swept by,
Caught in the lakes we used to dwell,
Swimming in porcelain eyelids,
Of closed calm,
As beloveds in the morning.
We were children
Of a different nature,
Swimming in the hearts of the other.
We have found ourselves
Clogged in veins,
Repeated pulses gently upon
Our unrinsed cheeks,
Crying sounds
In the unspeaking darkness.
Autumn has turned the coldest leaf
Overboard, to make the fall
Of our dewdrops to the roadways
Of our repeated life.
Modern Romanticism 