Poetry: As Constant

Oh this bright moon! If only I were so constant.
Not drifting along the darkened skies all night
And watching, with eyes ever wide in torment,
As nature’s lone insomniac in sleepless plight
The swell of the mighty sea, at his arduous feat
Of endless washing earth’s rough rocky shores,
Or gazing so solemnly upon freshly fallen sheet
Of snow upon mountain roofs and valley floors;
No– to still be as constant and still immovable
Resting quietly upon my love’s delicate breast.
Oh! just to feel forever its delicate rise and fall,
For me to never sleep, to stay in sweet distress.
That still, I might always listen to her soft sigh,
Therefore to live eternally, else eclipse and die.

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