Often the Skies, they gloriously shining


Often the skies, they gloriously shining

As though they possessed the candour of

Thine eyes! I lament the heirless King

And the eagle in me adours you; Dove!

Camping at thy gate in my eternal wait

Think eyes! O, how you stole the light

From the once brilliant night sky

To thy skin they mirrored the pearly gates of White

And never, never call they a buzzing fly

But, now pondering morosely I can gather

A gander that those great wars and mountains our love

Cannot dissuade nor sunk treasure gather

From the doomed depths. Neither can our love

Which hath gathered in me strength

Can give no sabre great length