Were not I mortal, I could please to hang like boughs a while ago,

And melt like mud this merry month of May,

Or wither with the flowery Springtime away –

Since both May and Spring bloom your thoughts in me, and make them still grow.

This honey-heavy Season, when heaven sprinkles beneath with gentle showers,

And discloses anew earth’s hidden riches,

Still do not half so grace with beauty those earthly faces,

As do your eyes reveal healthy bloom of your facial flowers!

But the Season is the nearest in resemblance to you;

And yet when it goes, leaves an evergreen resemblance behind,

Like that deathless Bloomtime on your face one may find –

And so with its remembrance resembles you more, being deathless too.

But the day’s complexion varies, when the Season does;

So may your heart’s change, having my heart – so I incur a loss!


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By Sydney Chesterfield on June 15, 2016 · Posted in Letters To Shindara by E.R. Chesterfield, Literary, Poetry, Trends

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