Vis-à-Vis

My life is bitter wine,

Yours is fair and good-

I but dream you would

Mingle yours with mine!

My love is fever still,

Yours is ease and grace;

Your sweet smiling face

Adds unto my ill!

My lips are whiter fire

Than any flame or blight;

Your kiss chill and light

Grieves my desire.

My heart aches always-

A lone angel, I

Haunt the lonely days.

Heaven, let me die!

"THE SUNS ARE DEAD"

Structure

17 lines · 3 stanzas