Late Lamented Language Of Love

Couldst liken language of to-day
to phrasings of the bards of old?
Couldst find the romance, once that was
for hearts to coddle and enfold?
And, souls couldst hug with loving hold? Wouldst thou of sweet romantic mores
but know the lovingness of yore.
Young lady fair for swain to count
in gentle ways that were before.
Ah, pity, those days live no more! As wispy sylphs on breezes bonne,
melodic poems fall upon me.
Mine heart's ears hear a minstrel's song.
Mine soul's eyes grace and beauty see.
Forever lost? No more to be? Couldst but I give these back to thee,
from deep within my heart and soul.
Sweet mystery, once more, of dreams.
To list again to love bell's toll.
For thee, dear heart, this be my goal.

by Jay C. Hershberg

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