You’ll love me yet!–and I can tarry
Your love’s protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April’s sowing.
I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike,
And yield–what you’ll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.
You’ll look at least on love’s remains,
A grave’s one violet:
Your look?–that pays a thousand pains.
What’s death? You’ll love me yet!
How far can a person go to fulfill the dream’s of someone else?
Read Dream’s Sake to find out. Click on the picture for reviews and free preview of the novel