Opus 1644

Phillip A. Ellis

My heart is as a maiden
who contemplates an ashen urn
upon a carven pedestal
saying: "Stay, passerby..."
and here she sits as sorrowing
the leaves in autumn weep their sere
leaves no longer joyous
as in the days of youth and spring thoughts.
My heart is as a maiden
sighing afore an ashen urn
oblivious to all

Sweet, sweet the scene
ever as a dream.

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