Lovely
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I fell beside thee,And formed for us, quilt made of romance.I love all that you are, of all eyes made to be orbs,For the future’s peering, into its watery distance.We sail in our fear,And quake beneath tears,Oh, how terrible are the stars under your eyes,You’ve made a bed for us both,A bed of love, made
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Make of the torment,What thou will,Make of it.The priests call cues of negligence,Make faces ripe with consequence.And deliver judgement,Like God in deliverance.Oh, woman! A passion of mine. A careful consideration,To what may be beautiful,Has long been beautiful,Beside me, in her endearment.Beauty makes apples,And apples for breasts. I am tired of loathingThe external,Of my sordid disposition,Of
Modern Romanticism 