TO PANSIES by Robert Herrick
Ah, Cruel Love! must I endure
Thy many scorns, and find no cure?
Say, are thy medicines made to be
Helps to all others but to me?
I'll leave thee, and to Pansies come:
Comforts you'll afford me some:
You can ease my heart, and do
What Love could ne'er be brought unto.
In the last breath we exhale the soul
leaving behind this life’s bitter toll
and lift into a new plane to explore
as we step through Heaven’s open door
Spirit of the soul and all our memories
passing into the next as quiet as can be
we lift our eyes to the waiting Throne
and know at last we have never been alone
This is so adorable, yorkie.
Very sweet....the yorkie and the poem.....!
:)