The Muse Poem by william f park

Whereof ye gods speak softly now
Of all my thoughts inflamed
Which, through my mind is trawled
And offered out untamed
A lovers kiss avow

Through trials of happiness and guilt
Months of sorrow when amiss
Remembering that which mattered most
In certitude would come again
And chalice raised in toast

In innocence I did entrust
The cloth of hope I wore
For now was come our great intent
A time for us to share
Alas! for me no more

Greet me warmly, in your arms enfold
Hold me softly to your breast
While all the world revolves
And quietly at rest
The muse, his story told