An Image of a City Still There

Beauty so deep affects the deep heart’s core;
O’ City, City, how I will miss thee,
An image deep in my mind to be bore.
Streets that cast serenity within me;
Rustic, quaint, old, old, city beguile me!
Gardens the peak of reflection make bliss:
A bliss so listless I can walk lonely,
Lonely, in a shroud to be touched and kissed.
But much in touch I cryed to not but missed:
The dark room, laughing Beauty up above,
Sounds of a flute outside, love lancing, bliss
That torments me and the sounds from above.
O’ beautiful City you not to blame,
I scream, cry, rejoice when I hear your name.