what bitter glitter do these eyes exude
that glisten in the light as dewdrops would;
what lonely sigh escapes these pouting lips
that once did know the bliss of tender kiss;
these arms that ache to hold you but once more
are lifeless driftwood washed upon the shore;
and oh! — to feel your head upon my breast,
more barren than deserted eagle’s nest,
would bring to me more joy than ever was;
and should you but ensnare these eyes of glass
with but the meanest glance — I would not seek
to cast existence to eroding peak.
could I but from this bleary life depart,
as parting token you would have my heart.