Where I a mouse
That wanders through my neighbour’s house,
I could observe with care
The joys and sorrows of him and her.
Where I a fly
Who all things doth spy
I could grieve
For the love I perceive
Blossom then die.
But I am a man
And have not the art
To gaze into my neighbour’s heart,
And possessing my own cares
Meddle not in other’s affairs.
Lovely! I found my way here through the link you left behind on Share-a-link initiative. Wonderful poem.Looking forward to more posts from you.
Cheers
Many thanks for your kind words and following my blog. I look forward to checking out your site. Kind regards. Kevin