There is a felling going on.
Someone made my passions start,
And now my guarding grove is gone.
When I saw the glitt'ring axe
Falling on those branchèd stalks,
Then I felt the cruel attacks
Of love that laughs and cries and mocks.
Red leaves, red blood: both downward fall
And make the passion's flame increase.
Oh! that the thing I most of all
Desire would be: for love to cease.
Replant the forest of my soul,
That my poor heart may yet regain
The peace it seeks. Let me be whole
And wholly free of passion's pain.
T.G. 3/16/2023
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