The Sands of Sidon
To cleave the hope from the old oak tree,
To bring your blessed love upon a carriage
And so sing the song of Tyre's still sea,
Casting my open hand in offer of marriage.
But to resent the wayward nature of being
Saddens the body of the torrid heart,
To believe what those lurid men are seeing
Sickens the white soul and we must depart.
Bring me courage so I may know you again,
The rose that was eternal and always mine,
For I may not free you from iniquity's den
Nor watch as you reason with Portia's crime.
And so on the sands of Sidon we will meet,
For I know nothing of my victory nor my retreat.
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To Wish the Wish of Happiness
To beat the beating drum,
for there is no way out.
To love her or to shun her,
to watch her smile and her vivacious pout.
To sing the last song,
for there is but love in words.
To want her or to let her go,
to see the sunrise and the light of love grow.
To wish the wish of happiness,
for there is some delay.
To yearn for her or deny her,
to listen to emptiness and to hope and to pray.
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