My Love

With not a sun
Ne’er doth my vision fadeth
Slight
For imagination will triumph
In my oft dreams of thee
And doth though suffer
Trembling as darkness might
Cause of thee
On a summers day
Wasted,
Perchance think of me

About this poem

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“My Love”
Written and Published by Paul Buttigieg

Published: 
September 7th, 2005
Category: 
Old English
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