Love, A Slow Clock

O my idol, my crested symbol called love:

herald for me a slow clock;

An ocean of seconds, a plane of minutes, hours called rivers;

When, at last again we render our tangy good-byes, I die in hope of you;

And I will hear “Tic,” “Tic,” and may God be with it: that I have relics upon which dust may settle again.

-

PBWY

G

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