poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.

I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.


Submitted by Adam Stokke

Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 30 Aug 2008 8:33 AM | Viewed: 4424 times

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