A dove of pearl lay bleeding,
O’er his wings, his love was weeping.
Was this but a dream that I viewed:
These wings in diamonds bedewed?
Will these eyes close when they die,
Or will they gaze nowhere in mine?
And in the kiss where they now lie
What love will be my love for thine?
From what skies might I see thee soar,
That kiss horizons on the sea?
What cage of Heaven the low winds bore
For such souls that should be free?
Cheerless stars now bear the earth,
And ere these lives began,
Death bore sorrow upon the birth
Of all that dies by man.
Alas! I cannot call unto the sky,
For such fragile beauty now lies dead,
Unless ‘twere to take up the cry
To slay me in his stead.
I dare not touch the love that weeps
O’er the fallen who lies in the leaves,
She believes perhaps he only sleeps
Returning not to the safety of the trees.
With sad eyes, I turn and walk away
The shared heart beating in but one breast,
Thinking of the dawning of the day
When HE too believes I only rest.
© 2021 Marten Hoyle