by Eugene Lee-Hamilton
Upon the bough of life I sat and sang,
And thou didst seek me on the morning's breath.
If Love should lead us to a common death,
The kiss that made us one was worth the pang.
Upon a single thread our two lives hang;
Peril, on earth, surrounds us like a wreath;
God frowns above, fiends mutter underneath;
We go where word of mercy never rang.
Rather than part, O love, I would accept
To share with thee the pauseless gust of Hell,
Like storm-borne birds for ever onward swept,
Where subterranean hurricanes compel
The wind-imprisoned spirits that are kept
Upon the wing in Nature's cavernous shell.
Last updated January 14, 2019