5
She says, 'But I still feel in Contentment
The Need of Some Imperishable bliss. "
Death is the mother of beauty; Henco from her, Alone
, Shall come to fulfillment
Our Dreams and Our Desires. Although she strews the leaves Of sure obliteration
on Our paths, The path sick sorrow
Took, The Many Paths Where triumph rang
ITS brassy phrase, or love Whispered a little out
of tenderness, She Makes
the willow shiver in the sun For maidens
Who Were wont to sit and gaze Upon the grass
, Relinquished to Their feet. She
you cause boys to pile new plums and pears On Disregard
plate. The maidens taste And stray impassioned
Littering in the leaves.
5
She said 'but I still feel such joy
the need for a pleasure that will not perish. "
Death is the mother of beauty, only it will
completeness
our dreams and desires. Although shake the leaves from oblivion
safe on our roads, the road
went off sick, a lot on that success
played his sentence of metal or very nearly whispered
love sweetness,
she makes the sun shine willow
the ladies who did not want to sit and watch the grass
, delivered at his feet.
She makes the boys pile new plums and pears on a plate
neglected. The lady proved
and passion are full of discarded leaves.
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