Flaming cornet of the orange bloom,
Come my prince…have you come soon?
The winds are yet to leave May’s bosom
And the cackle of the infant blossom.
So stretch and stretch your majestic hand,
To hold the flames of the withering noon
And the times of the gray sands,
As they cover your gentlest passions,
So be not timid; be all you can stand
And you shall have your kingly lands.
Confessions of a Haunted Mind - There are parts of me so dark even I don’t wish to dwell there too long, pieces of my life no-one will ever hear about unless you happen to have bee...
15 hours ago