Speak low

Come, sir; speak low, this dark is not so dark;
If snow falls in my heart, then let cold tears
Lament: bitter collations make their mark
Just as drops dampen cheeks, as each one steers
Its way to destinations, where we dream
These slow, soft flakes never had cause to fall,
Nor settle on a breast, much like the cream
You'd splash to join the mélée; let's recall
The pleasures you've experienced; but note:
There are so many things that my moist eyes
Just want to say to you, before you coat
My eyelids in viscosity - so, park
Your come; speak low: this dark is not so dark.