I am myself by Love’s design 

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Love’s thrill is not long
to balance out the tragedy
this poor suff’ring Heart
that must change in change herself
to endeavor the charms of fleeting
pleasures that charm when young
growing so old a few years later

Love has in store a kind of prosperity
of loyal years and pleasant goodbyes
that time and death become as friends
in time’s flight of fiery bliss
where with tender signs we review
all that has come to pass and gone
as if too soon, to sustain the memory

why is the Spring so sullen on summer’s brink?
ah, now I understand just what
beauty the flowers bear, the mothers sow
in the empathy of a lifetime and of servitude
love’s design is born to be the victim
of all mankind and instinct’s hunt
that cares not who falls and who shall rise.

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