Grace Thou Love Nary Forlorn----Old English
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Tread cobbled path of wandering heart;
She speaks in moonlight spirit,
Thine treasure chest come undune,
'Till I lose mine feathers,
Frozen by her sole divinity;
She, found to mine lost,
Twixt these street exile redefined by her golden glory,
pounding on my chamber door;
I must forego the counsel of my twisted devils,
Rise from lay 'pon this brow beaten soul;
Swell into her wonder... lift love anew!
Heaven restore mine black gloom;
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Spilleth' over, soothing matrimony.
~JSLambert
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