Let not your sighing cease.
Oh, let this evening end!
Perhaps the madness of the drink
offends. Or liberates or sends
me off, I think.
But, please dear lady at my side
let not your sighing cease!
Though all things round about us
shatter, each in its impatient way.
Evenings most syllabic chatter,
Words so driven far astray
from what would ring more true -
more closely intimate with you -
than
"Another round of Manhattans for the six of us!"
or
"John, try and pay attention, man!"
Yet, all the while, your fragrant song's
most fumbled recital now and then
echoes
and steadies the mere passerby who just happens to be
drunk... or a wobbling child... or
me- I can not help but think
of your most breathy sighs
and rise to view the evening spinning.
Then only where your song plays
sink.
