Muse
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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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She was the wind,She is now the sea,Calling out, for sailors to breatheTheir last, upon their own thirst.While gulls transport, from water to scrap.While faces of Heaven see downwards to her,They call no strength to her longing,Her suffering,Is for a hopeless muse.It is an ocean that brims darkness. A fever, she once caused,For the sake
Modern Romanticism 