Sweet, Remember Our Prime Days Poem by Nero CaroZiv

Sweet, remember our prime days; now there is nothing left to do or say
But the preeminent conclusion, we must accept that our love is never lost,
It is never dead, fierce winter wind stabs the breasts of lovely emerging May
Yet its crimson poses of roses burst out of his frost,
Ships are by rouge waves dreadfully, violently tempest-tossed
Eventually will find a harbor in some bay at the request of a sailor pray


As dusk sets, our life are concluding, there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and at the hour for eternity part,
We lived our life to the full, there is nothing we should rue,
I have your beauty, wit, and divine loyalty, you my devotion and art,
We explored the surrounding, one world was not enough for two
Two souls like me and you.


The days of wild birds chirruping and chittering as they reeled from bough to bough
Are so remote now, busy wild bees followed with furry coats and gauzy wings
In an instance in a lily-cup flower, and then upon a lily hood roof
They were visiting the water hyacinth bell a swing,
Bending closer to the balmy grass I remember I trowed
And solemnly I made that bounding vow


Then, young and unskilled, I swore that our two lives should be like one
Naturally as long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the rising sun
It shall be, I said, for eternity between you and me!
Your fire is blowing fast and fierce in my cloak
Too late, too late, in spite being surrounded by egregious foes, to set back the clock


Within that childhood field limit, there was relief enough,
The sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain,
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter us from vile tempest and from persistent rain
There roamed the herds of white tail deer in vast park;
No dog could rouse and bay the grazing flocks though a thousand bark.


Upward those hills of past years where the poplar trees
Sway and re-sway in the lazy summer air,
There in the valley never a breeze
Scattered or roughed the thorny cerulean thistle flower, but there
Great winds blow fair behind rocky nooks
As they emerge from the vigorous murmuring brooks


Look upward where the white gull screams,
I asked you then and do now, what does it see that we do not see?
Is that a star? or the lamp that from far land gleams
Or else on some outward vast sea a heavy loaded voyaging argosy
What ever it could be, we have lived our lives in a land of dreams!
We made it so, how sad those days have traveled far, never to return so it seems.

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