A short and lyrically sweet lay imitating the Romantics.


To My Special Muse

I can hear my muse weep and sigh;
I just listen and don't ask why.

Her tears gleam like a burning fire
and she's forever here to inspire;

she visits me in the cool of the morn
by the brooks where I was born;

there, as she reveals her fairy powers
where I await amidst the leafy bowers;

I lie in repose by the babbling brooks
beyond the hamlet and ruined rooks

and write all day for my special Muse;
for if I write she will never refuse

to be my sighing muse till I am dead,
when my poems will be well-read.




Poetry by Ngoc Nguyen The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2018-05-17 at 11:41

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