METHOUGHT

If I had believed the flirtatious whispers, the deceitful speeches, the heap of begging compliments flirting with all - Now would not prison and helpless indifference be Solitude, I could rejoice in the tiled happiness of others! The tearful grief-balls of my eyes Would not be hurt by the knife-sting of brightly offensive days, And the planetary continence of hearts in the home mood 

Would repent, find home, and perhaps despairing uncertainty of existence Would not rightly be so much as to ask if Tomorrow will yet be worthwhile? 
I would sit with the celebrated childhood youth and read with diligence the apocrypha of my ant-letters into their gawking, exploring glances! And, bewitching my deer-eyes, would greet me with smiles of starry-eyed fairy-will, and all-giving, mischievous angel-face, 

and my broken soul would not be a pessimist infected with insecurity, and my agoraphobia could be finally trampled down if I knew and felt that He is always by my side, and takes me in His swan hands of protection, even with my mother's soft, dewy hands! 

And in the crimson shade of stunning sunsets, Together, two by two, with hands welded together, We would wait obediently, and not impatiently, For nature's unison order: slowly, more slowly, the Cyclops-ball closes its giant big eye, And I would have time to lay down fruitful lines about this and that: 

How was my broken, self-pitying life? I would bear eternal counseling witness-but only as a wise herald with humility, quietly, and only gaze with ever-searching, curious, mellifluous eyes, Even in the crevices of wrinkles, years' scratches may have been overcome by immortal conviction, That we were for each other unceasingly, believing in happiness!