How Strange Is That?
I felt I fell in love with you today; how strange is that?
Waiting for the bus we stopped and stayed to chat,
when suddenly and subito my head was overturned,
unbalancing my body, making blood to burn.
I'm not even sure I really caught your name!
Some mischievous cupid plays a little game;
uncanny things, ungrounded, maddening, swift,
then throw the world off kilter, make the earth to shift!
Meeting you but once, but for a little while,
I am haunted by your eyes, the flashing of your smile;
though I hardly know you, nonetheless my brain
spins out imaginations as though your heart were gained.
But swiftly comes its death as swiftly came its birth,
and if it pass away, what is such feeling worth?
The merest little fizzle, a frenzy in the brain,
and after sudden torrent nothing will remain
but cynic's self-suspicion, memories that fade,
and a wry and quiet gravestone where madness has been laid.
How Strange that You Think I Love You
How strange that you think I love you
when only time will tell:
when I've conquered death and heartache
and braved the gates of hell,
when, world within my fingers,
I let it slip on through
for wonder of your whisper,
for glory that is you.
How strange that you think I love you
when in this world of lie
scarce any deed is done
the next does not deny;
no proof is in my promise
nor certainty is saved
until what binds me to you
outlasts the silent grave.
Stone
Farther shores I know than this,
visions vivid like the morrow;
holy heaven, everlightened,
sends such mercy, masters sorrow.
I wish anew on falling stars;
those leaping lights in dance display
a drove of powers pouring down
like righteous ruin of the day.
Rue no more the pastward lesson,
harbor here in love alone;
this castle-keep and quiet eyrie
founds itself on saving stone.
