All the doors are locked, and given the keys
Jailer your ruthless queen.
Petrarca
I'm glad the heart of the battle,
I can smell the freshness inverse bliss,
But the heat of enemy cheeks
Defeated in a belated run.
And all the sweeter new prisoner.
I look into the gloom wakeless,
But in the long cold walls of the local
Sometimes the guard descends wonderful.
On okrylit and Zunes,
And illumine, and otumanit,
And the sweetness of it flows,
But every sound - heart hurts.
It - is the secret of youth,
And a slow and sweet poison
He quietly watered prisoner,
Bottomless gaze mesmerized.
15 December 1901
