Down On The Heath
Down on the heath I met my lover, by arches strewn with vines and flowers;
we kissed each other, then took cover, from skies portending heavy showers.
Well I remember then I said - 'Too much I love you is my problem',
as flames will out, if too much fed - as evening grew around each column.
Down on the beach I met my lover, beneath the slate-skies of November;
I took her arm - I did discover - within my heart a final ember.
But now it only could be said - 'Too much I loved you was my problem',
the flame is out, since too much fed - as winter grew around that autumn.