Explore "Welt" by Georgia Douglas Johnson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Would I might mend the fabric of my youth / Which daily flaunts its tatters to my eyes, / Would I might compromise awhile with truth / Until love's moon, now waxing, wanes and dies.
For I would go a further while with you / And draing this Cup of Joy so passing fair, / Which meets my parching lips like cooling dew / 'Ere time has brushed cold fingers through my hair.