O Pale Hour, Fail Me Not... Poem by Brett White

O, Pale Hour, fail me not...
In ministering sentiments, from the
Heart, and wrought..
In Iron-Clad Love, pale blue
And true-
To Life in Calmness and Strife.

We Surge and Seek, through Life's Blizzard-Storm,
To mould thine Essence and take the Form
Of Love Forlorn,
And Bitter Scorn
Wash'd away, She could not stay.

Thou
Dids't
Slay

My defenses,
As vulnerable as children
Playing
On Fences

In Summer's Grace
Far gone too soon;
And Winter's Face,
Violently doth Swoon

With the Fury of a thousand Dying Suns -
And Sol, my Heart, dying from thee, Runs
To the Shade; Clouded in Love from the Gentle Past.
Nothing as Sweet as thee were meant to last
Longer than the Blink of God's Favorite Angel's Eye;
My Love for thee, more bountiful in Scope than
The breadth of the Skye,
As Darkness kisses her Son, Vibrant Daylight,
Goodbye-
With the Joy of a Lover, though Departed,
Who remembers the Sigh
Of his Lover, Forever Molded in Twilight Mist,
Whose only Joy was to be loved and Kissed
Asleep with thoughts of thee, All the Night Long,
Caressed by thy Hand, Head on thy Bossom, Where
Said Lover doth solely Belong.
But to be so selfish, to take and not Give,
Is to breathe the Winter Aire and yet
Truly not Live,
Because to live is to Caress thy Hair softy
To Sleep,
To read to thine Perkèd Ears and peak
Thy Smile as't doth Creep
Across thy Face- avec mine- In Sunshine Bliss -
To die, I'd die for thee - for just one
More... kiss.

Old love poem I never sent her.