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My Heart Is Aching With Longing, Tho' I Feed
On Hope; Time Goes With Such A Heavy Pace
That Neither Brings, Nor Takes From Thy Embrace,
As If He Slept-- Forgetting His Old Speed:
For, As In Moonlight Only We Can Read
The March Of Minutes On The Dial's Face
So In The Shadows Of This Lonely Place
There Is No Love, And Time Is Dead Again.
But When, Dear Gentleman , I Am Near Thy Heart
The Smile Is Time, And So Swift It Flies,
It Seems We Only Meet To Tear Ourselves Apart
With Aching Hands And Lingering Eyes.
Alas, Alas! That We Must Learns Hours' Flight
By The Same Light Of Love That Makes Them Bright!


-Unknown
(( This Poem Has Many Different Changes Made By Me ))