the resolve of an earnest lover, adrift

A reaffirmation of his romantic urges, written at a time when most hearts would give to sorrow or anger or despair.

the resolve of an earnest lover, adrift

I know hearts have their time
and they soon pass their prime
like a vicar's oak plate
just begging for an offering.

The coins we shall spend
we can't always defend
but if we hesitate
it is for naught we are hoarding.

To the angels who bent
to the words I have I sent
I am both grateful
and honored by your hours.

For the sands will still flow
and this I well know
from memories both hateful
and that have blossomed bright flowers.

If this path shall be madness
I will walk it in gladness
accepting the cold and the rain
as a challenge to my desires.

And, should the night prove dark,
and the nightingale, a lark,
I will wear proudly the stain
of an earnest lover's fires.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.