I Sat Alone
I sat alone
with the moon
last night – in
the deep dark;
till the dim light
and then
the morrow;
I spoke of Love's enchantment...
of Love's joys, and of loveless
sorrows...
I asked, had she also counted –
with the happy hours –
the many unrequited tears?
Had she kept a few of my own?
For joy and sorrow, does Her Light
show different tone? Or for Her,
is it all the same moan?
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