Dulcet

In yon still night, thy dulcet song dost ring,

Enlarging all my senses with its sweet embrace.

My nostrils draw thee in, a fragrant spring,

Mine ears, attuned, await thy footfall's grace.

My heart, a restless bard, doth yearn and pine,

Whilst my soul doth dance in blissful revelry.

With arms outstretched, I bid thee to entwine,

My bosom, soft, a sweet repose shall be.

The eye of thought, doth turn to yon grand fair,

Where heaven's bridge, by fate's own hand, is laid;

From fiery heights, a spark doth dance in air,

To hail thy form, in all its grand cascade.