from the desert I come to thee
on a stallion shod with fire,
and the winds are left behind
In the speed of my desire.
under your window I stand
and the midnight hears my cry,
I love thee, I love but thee
with a love that shall not die.
till the sun grows cold
and the stars are old
and the leaves of the Judgement book unfold!
look from thy window and see
my passion and my pain,
I lie on the sand below
and I faint in thy disdain.
let the night-wind touch thy brow
with the heart of a burning sigh,
and melt thee to hear the vow
of a love that shall not die.
till the sun grows cold
and the stars are old
and the leaves of the Judgement book unfold!
my steps are nightly driven
by the fever in my breast,
to hear from thy lips
the words that shall give me rest.
open the door of thy heart
and open thy chamber door,
and my kisses shall teach thy lips
the love that shall fade no more.
till the sun grows cold
and the stars are old
and the leaves of the Judgement book unfold!
Poem by: Bayard Taylor
Thursday, December 22, 2005
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