Poem page fourteen
Surrender
My heart is a waste of barren love.
Bitterly from hope I turn my face,
For only a fool believes his dream
Might today come true.
So find for me one saint still believing
That sinners might be saved
And answer; having begged
Whose boon was ever granted?
Explain the use of loving unrequited
And do please tell
Who gained from the tears they caused to flow?
Then show what became of me
To those I loved, who left.
A Duel of Delight and Desperation
