My lady, would you care to walk in Dreams with me? ©
Shaw o' Inchrory
Wild as the winds in that welkin's array
what desires man dreams, as his days pass away,
dripping fresh as those dewdrops, weeping Eos adorn
they that rise from her bed, to face truths' Gate of Horn.
Begone, thee the nights, that shows yesterday's face
And pause in the purpose those parading their place
for summon silver trumpets to sound the recall
head not battle's bugle, playing lone memory's hall
Yet vested voice sounds, from dark valleys of night
where allusion gleams, in lunar thoughts bright
to avant so in pleasures of a silvered Selene,
and your presence does promise, yes a sweeter praline
O' touch me my Morpheus those thoughts are of mine
Euripus willing, would desire's grace so entwine,
with auster's will woken, whilom's presence may pass,
aubade's are now shining, through life's, weathered glass
For purest words speak a passion, thereby be its plan,
gives Gorgias, ne'er ear a grievous amesian.
To heed so rosaceae, in thy life's scented scheme
of love's latent bud, and its own blossomed dream.
Sing me sweet oriole, from thy own favoured song
where my trembled heart beat, and those winsome words throng.
Desire's erring Eos, gives such dew its sweetness,
that Hebe in trust's hand, her pouring nectars, possess.
For that passion should flow, like twain oceans so meet
in the pounding of pleasures, on such shores they entreat
as rote of its thrusting, bears a rapine rapport
to leave bones of an ecstasy, lying bare on its shore.
Where signs would so seek, in a soul for to give
those moments' of thought, where lone memories live,
and of deep secrets its does, in own liturgies lay
when words so spoken, seeks ne'er still a silentiary.
To play light, upon strings of heart feelings' own lute,
promised proses that would with a word seek impute,
and with care ever thoughtful, of love's owning cause
perform pleasured thought. It ne'er Apollo ere pause.
Fay, whom fealties heed o' thy Hippocrene
to wash barest there, with its cleft waters clean,
there jussive leif bathes, in loves own tending joy
bears moments so blessed, of easements employ.
For love has its moment, and life has its care
where voice verse's fashion, with vanities fair
please take me in pleasure, or take me in pain
I give you my reasons, your heart, I hope gain.
For music, ne'er sound as sweet as your voice
from morning's dawn chorus, I care o' the choice'
there to stride like a man that so drifts in a dream.
Whilst care you walks' me, within causation's esteem.
For the hand that you hold in the light of loves flare,
fair promised in friendship, a proffered proof share.
Love's hope gives respect, Lethean grace its own truth
such, emotions of yester, so wasted in youth.
So if you could wish in the thoughts of this dream,
take the hand of permission, in pleasure supreme.
There, to walk in love's garden where it gree's a respect.
Drink deep, o' life's chalice, let ne'er Lethe debt ere detect.
And I by my nature, am I no less the man
if love's heart I honour, in all ways I can,
with voice volitive in dreams, and willing desires
take my hand to those heavens, a Helios aspires