Shall I Sing Thee Thy Praises

Shall I sing thee thy praises,
as do the hollyhocks bend
to fortune’s grace at summer’s crest,
to have lived and laughed so long and joyfully?
They have no eyes for autumn.

So long, yet longer still
will summer’s days graze lazily
on blind and honeyed pastures

Why would I look to a world beyond you
when milk is in your clouds
and in your sky mysteria?
My blood and yours
are two rivers red converging.

The world comes alive
when you see it in my eyes,
but when you are gone from me,
I cannot even name the flowers.

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