‘Til then, through time, a lovelorn thought she’ll keep,
As midnight passes, so do health and thought-
Wandering dreams, fitful rest and counting sheep-
Fidelity and truth her mind “comes fraught.
No more the banquet table rest she now,
And food for notion gone like better days.
The cup is dry and still she”ll disavow
To “lieve it full with love”s first cleansing haze.
Alas she’ll come upon the final hour,
‘Fore moonlight yields its dark to callous dim,
Love could never bloom its final flower,
Forever will she sink, she cannot swim.
For now, night’s shadow cast its death upon
What once was free and rife, but now is gone.