by James Eaton
She turns in silence and walks these hollow heights,
Within, the cloudy shadows, without, the city lights,
Recalling many days past and evenings, oh too few,
When once we walked through starlight into the morning
She whispered of the sweetness of which our hearts could sing,
Till bitterness behoved us and sweetness took to wing,
I know not of the reason, nor why our love should die,
While sadness has it's season and teardrops take my eye,
If ever we should meet again, along that stoney shore,
Could we become enamoured as we were before?
Should we not search for solace? Nor kisses heaven sent?
Should pent up passion leave us and kisses all be spent?
Will I become a wanderer just as the lonely Jew?
Who searches long, for Jesus, to bring him succour too,
Without a sturdy knights horse to carry me away,
I live in constant sorrow that haunts my judgement day.
Last updated September 24, 2015