Cruel’st years from I hath robb’d thy voice. The song
Of love hath lost its tune. What fool feel I
Believing in thy precious lies. ‘Tis long
Th’ night without you by my side. Good-bye
I wish to our sweet love in rubble left.
‘Tis not about where lies the blame. Accuse,
But know in ev’ry path we would ha’ cleft.
Would thou return my heart in shards. Reuse
Them I shall try. I smile to see you now
With ‘nother: art but naught a stranger, queer.
I’ve lov’d, ‘tis true, and only one art thou
Of many twixt lone birth and death. And here
With all the tumult passing by, with life–
In truth, it matters not the scope of strife.
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