I am yours, and you are mine
Into each other’s limbs we twine
As saplings in loves coppice might
Be merged as one in softened light.
One water drinking from the ground;
Unified in sight and unison in sound;
And sleep as peaceful as the setting sun
Contented when each day is done.
But what is this I feel that grows t’ween trunk and bough?
The sweet rose thorn stem; and as it starts to climb it does chafe,
And weaving through us now it’s barbs draw blood in our embrace!
It promising most beauteous blooms,
But never telling how quick they fade.