Perseverance Do I Ransack

Lofty cliffs of the sweetest elixirs stood still, trudging past me visage of, planting kisses of a thousand marvelous Sylvan trees, ones that, standing alone in the grey of the early spring, did recite the vivacity in the rough; yet, was I conceived in the lights of the day that not could the poems of so immense a predilection invite the same out of me... And yet, might have I lost my consciousness to the hands of voiceless a strife, one that isn't but, vagrant a dweller in my core, for could I not have the touches of the fading winter palpable on the fingertips I so bore... Could the entirety not seem for me resuscitation as anything enough.

Did I let thine love to the translucent clasps of the creepers of the poison, did I thus, let the winds, ones that did evince thine advent, slip through the voids from in betwixt me fingers my dear!

Oh the holy Providence! not was it me intent for do I embrace a thousand deaths for the mere pleasure of feeling the essence of having thine countenance beheld.

Do I feel the winds of fury in lieu of traitor am I of thee and have I conferred the clever kisses of betrayal to all of the entities did I swear on; Why! Must should thou heed it as bitter infidelity... Why! Must thine eyes cease seeking me notice for no longer do I grasp my stance on the green of the lonely grasses to eavesdrop the glint of thine grin! WHY! thee ought to cease coming for art thou not to find me waiting in the meadows of the dusk of the twilight; yet, I long for thine advent, seeking thy splashes that cosset me thoughts at the window by aloof a street, for do I greet the reminiscence of thy memories in me.