Black Morning Lovesong by A. S. J. Tessimond
In love's dances, in love's dances One retreats and one advances, One grows warmer and one colder, One more hesitant, one bolder. One gives what the other needed Once, or will need, now unheeded. One is clenched, compact, ingrowing While the other's melting, flowing. One is smiling and concealing While the other's asking kneeling. One is arguing or sleeping While the other's weeping, weeping.
And the question finds no answer And the tune misleads the dancer And the lost look finds no other And the lost hand finds no brother And the word is left unspoken Till the theme and thread are broken.
When shall these divisions alter? Echo's answer seems to falter: 'Oh the unperplexed, unvexed time Next time...one day...one day...next time!'
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