Thursday 28 July 2011

She

J.W. Waterhouse: Sappho

She 
May be the face I can't forget 
The trace of pleasure or regret 
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay 
She 
May be the song that summer sings 
May be the chill that autumn brings 
May be a hundred different things 
Within the measure of a day

She 
May be the beauty or the beast 
May be the famine or the feast 
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell 
She may be the mirror of my dreams 
The smile reflected in a stream 
She may not be what she may seem 
Inside her shell 

She 
Who always seems so happy in a crowd 
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud 
No one's allowed to see them when they cry 
She 
May be the love that cannot hope to last 
May come to me from shadows of the past 
That I'll remember till the day I die 

She 
May be the reason I survive 
The why and wherefore I'm alive 
The one I'll care for through the rough in ready years 
Me 
I'll take her laughter and her tears 
And make them all my souvenirs 
For where she goes I've got to be 
The meaning of my life is 

She
She, oh she