Whispers in a Grove

Love, take your watch atop your cosmic perch.

Open an eye, gaze closely at the hearts

That beat like ticking watches—how their parts

Lead to the blooming rose. Forever search

The reason of your being: watch your church—

It flowers, blossoms (never-dying arts!),

And hear, hear closely time, as death imparts,

Can pause—one hears the treetops lurch…

Love, cruel god, is man’s slight fancy played,

As winds would play the whispers of a grove?

Beseech we you, that when our hearts are laid,

Our soils will face the rains that time can prove:

Within your presence let it forth be said—

That you are time, and time is given to love.


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