Fever and Cage

O’ obscure; a truth beheld—on secret tongues,
oft a reverie;- enamored, yet care-free;
‘t is a secret whispered breeze—
of the flowers and the trees;-
amongst the roses and the bees—
ne’er spok’n, lest ‘t is been seen,
beneath the sea adorned of dream;
is the soul entwined to me.

Though ye dare not feel the same;-
and ye dare not know mine truth;
shan’t deter mine heart from you,
mine very reverence, secret flu;
mine very fever is that of you;
shalt not cure, tho’ I, a fool—
rapt to the existence, sadly true.

And this tragic heart shalt break;-
wiles mine hapless pain within,
alas—a jar of tears begin—
stacked aside the years of it;
tears for thoughts a shrine of it,
broken, here, I’ll sadly sit—
O’ a woe;- the very sight of it.

Now in this triumph of solace;-
mine very pen hast blessed this page,
oft in fits of rage, Saturday comes  rain,
mine love within ye cage—
thou shant know this rage,
as thou shant unlock said cage,
and in my broken state—
burns the flames upon this page ...