12 November 2013


By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Must I await thy call 'til Doomsday come?
O, wilt thou grant my wish: either to claim
This disconsolate heart as thine in sum,
Surrendering thy bosom to the flames
Of that passion enkindled by your eyes;
Or, emancipate a soul thus enslaved –
Bound by my devotion I'll not deny –
Allowing, through grace, a mind to be saved?
If thy will be the former, affection
Is mine; if latter, I'll be forever
Persecuted for my self-deception;
Withering as doubt clouds each endeavour.
   All that I am I once more offer thee,
   And beg: requite my love or set me free.

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