A Lonesome Isle

If I were to be stranded on an isle

Where none could visit me but passing birds,

I would stretch my arms for many a mile

In the hopes that my wish might soon be heard.

If I were trapped by the bluest of seas,

I would still miss the storm in your kind eyes,

And my heart would yearn for the strongest breeze

So that my weathered sails might deign to fly.

If I were to find rest on sandy shores,

Free from the bindings of mankind’s sharp scorn,

Your sweet name would sigh from my sun-drenched pores

Until the moon and stars arose to mourn.

                I am half of a set, an empty shell,

                Fore I cannot bid my sweet love farewell.