Crawling among
Teeming sadness,
A forest has bent its limbs
To the shape of your misery.
Folding hands
Across your bleeding heart,
A bosom as wide
As the ocean,
With no smile you show.
Why not awake the sun?
I can come through,
Kneel to you,
Arrange your eyes with a gleam,
Tend to your fallen heart,
Handing smiles
To your stolen happiness,
As love
Can be your banquet.
Do not,
As I implore you
To never
Blow these candles out
I have lit in your heart.
We wait
For the world to come singing
Delicate sweetness, in its
Subtlest composition,
To melt all stagnant sadness.
Modern Romanticism 