The Crotchet Rest

 

You and I

Our unison equivocal

Bathed in the gaze,

Of a time-altering musical,

 

My darling dear,

A whole octave lower,

Aged faster than I,

My religious-care slower,

 

Yet, here we are,

Both adorned in our gold;

Hearts declaring words

That were then written in old,

 

Those sirens of praise

Are tumbling from sweet mouths,

Not in murmur-tones-

If only that were allowed!