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deepundergroundpoetry.com
The gifted tongue
The gifted tongue
If we in the world were young and in love
And truth in the gifted tongue,
The pretty pleasures it gives will make you move,
To live within harmony and to be in love
Time drives the licks to the folds,
When your rivers rage and rocks grow hard,
And when the Philomel becomes numb,
That complains of pleasures to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
The honey tongue, will heat the core of the heart,
As fancy’s spring out, no sorrows will fall.
The gowns, the moans, are now of a bed of Roses,
The cap, the kirtle, and the posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In a folly of ripe, pleasure
In a belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
In all this within me your means you move
You come to me and are my love.
The gifted tongue of youth last, and love shall breed,
Have joys no dates, nor age or need,
Within these delights your mind might move,
To live with a, gifted tongue such as mine you shall love.
By nutbuster
If we in the world were young and in love
And truth in the gifted tongue,
The pretty pleasures it gives will make you move,
To live within harmony and to be in love
Time drives the licks to the folds,
When your rivers rage and rocks grow hard,
And when the Philomel becomes numb,
That complains of pleasures to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
The honey tongue, will heat the core of the heart,
As fancy’s spring out, no sorrows will fall.
The gowns, the moans, are now of a bed of Roses,
The cap, the kirtle, and the posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In a folly of ripe, pleasure
In a belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
In all this within me your means you move
You come to me and are my love.
The gifted tongue of youth last, and love shall breed,
Have joys no dates, nor age or need,
Within these delights your mind might move,
To live with a, gifted tongue such as mine you shall love.
By nutbuster
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