Lovers' Boasts
A lover's boast is swiftly made;
the heart is not so firm and sure.
Too often trust is ill-repaid,
too often love does not endure.
But hope still bubbles at the source,
still flows from forth its ancient fount,
becomes a river in its course,
thus all the laws of time to flount.
And, strangely, things that lovers feel,
which swift and sudden passions form,
sometimes seal as strong as steel
and weather even raging storm.
At times a passing word will last,
a breath of promise shape the age,
a vow in day, in night will last,
flirtation grace undying page.
A lover's boast is swiftly made;
no human word is guarantee.
Too often promises will fade,
too often lovers' hopes will flee.
But passions sometimes seed a faith
that stands so pure and oaken-strong,
all else compared is but a wraith,
for it is real and ages long.
