Deep dew fallen on the secret rose; Closed eyes open that cry again. Nothing here to bind the heart close; No bloom can I cut for the mist of pain. 5 Cushioned grass beneath me, the pine my cloak, The wind a whispering skirt; The water waits emptily for an empty boat, The naked road for a coach as a shirt. A little girl is singing 10 In the waiting evening: "I ride a grand coach With red lacquered sides; Without shoe or broach My love on a dark horse sighs. 15 "Where are true lovers' hearts Bound and wound? Beneath the cypress, on West Mound, Beneath the brooding ground." Cold blue a candle flames, 20 Straining its frail light; On the West Mound, rain Forced by the wind in the night. Deep dew fallen on the secret rose; Closed eyes open that cry again. 25 Nothing here to bind the heart close; No bloom can I cut for the mist of pain.
From the collection "Unimagined Things"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.