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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476606" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Heal Softly, Lover, Burn Gently</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heal softly, lover, burn gently, <br>	the moon is full on your windowsill, <br>		and the stars haven't gone down <br>over the eyes of your bells<br>	or made a fool of your tears<br>		over a jest of ashes. You are<br>the nightbranch that reaches for me<br>	and I'm the bird that returns<br>		to your cherry chandeliers, <br>the ripe goblets of your fire-plums, <br>	and the stars in the quince of your eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">		And there are blackberries in your blood<br>thorns and vines, simmering eclipses<br>	broken gates and lonely doorways<br>		where I'll always come to shine, <br>where I'll wait like a ghost beyond death <br>	for the eyelids and bridges <br>		in the breath of your wine.<br> Eternity isn't time enough <br>	to hold the sea I bear you<br>		nor a mountain robed in snow<br>nor a valley heeding voices in the depths, <br>	more than a wound and a toy<br>		to the love I feel for you.<br> <br>Heal softly, lover, hear me, see <br>	in this dreamtime of the flesh, <br>		how the lanterns <br>of the lady slippers glow with honey<br>	that fill the hives with light, <br>		and the doe sleeps softly <br>in the silver grass that jewels the water, <br>	and the fireflies outlive the brass <br>		of graver monuments than these<br>that write our names on the moon in shadows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">	I say it in bees and bruises and orchids<br>		in apples and eglantine, <br>in roads and doors and thresholds, <br>	in skulls and scars and sunspots, <br>		in grapes and scarlet runners, <br>in the slips of the cucumber seeds, <br>	and the lips of the velvet borage<br>		that kiss and overflow the stone, <br>you're the harp in the throat of time<br>	the spider weaves <br>		to hear the morning play. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No widow of burnt guitars, <br>	no journal of summer <br>		pressed between the pages <br>of the nightshift shales, <br>	no blood on a chain, <br>		or raven lost in the rags and ribbons<br>of her own black sails, not <br>	frost on a garden that fails, <br>		or a lock that's lost it keys, <br>or a rock that grieves for its plundered ores, <br>	you are the candle and the seal <br>		of all my mystic urgencies, <br>the gentle thief of my confessions <br>	at the circuits and sessions <br>		of a doomed man's last appeal<br>to die in the bay of your arms, <br>	 a dolphin, a bottle, a snail<br>		that craved its way to you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heal softly, lover, turn with the herbs<br>	that follow the sun like clocks<br>		and when your day is done<br>bathe in the dusk with the birds <br>	that fly through the air like autumn, <br>		and scented by the apricots <br>and peacock blues that pour out of my heart<br>	like the eyes and inks of a prelude, <br>		a painter, a pitcher of words, <br>rise from your ancient solitude renewed<br>	and dressed by the wind <br>		in your scarves and veils, <br>in your nets, your shawls and auroras, <br>	in anklets, chokers, loops and chains<br>		in your nebulae and orbits<br>and the lunar rain of your earrings, <br>	wait for me as I will wait for you<br>		where the nightjar sings<br>to celebrate his lover's soft approach<br>	with every quill and feather of his wings.<br>		And no world will deceive us, <br>no flame expire, no radiance cease, <br>	no fracture mar the jubilant fire <br>		that recast its heart in hell<br>			to love you long and well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476606" data-title="Heal Softly, Lover, Burn Gently de Patrick White" data-description="Heal softly, lover, burn gently, 
	the moon is full on your windowsill, 
		and the stars haven't gone down 
over the eyes of your bells
	or made a fool of your tears
		over a jest of ashes. You are
the nightbranch that reaches for me
	and I'm the ..."></div>
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