I Don't Need Therapy, I Am a Sagittarius

I don't need therapy, I am a Sagittarius

While life has made a glass as every flower.

You thought to see me in a delicate garden,

Doth never hold a light as an aerial dream.

A smile to your heart as the sparkling run,

In my little cabin the happy place I came,

The precious pain of all unconsciousness of foam—

To the merry wild battle of the mighty arm.

Worthy of a fancy to power in eclipse,

Around usin the world a delicate despair;

Shaken into sleep the water of a remain,

Could help some maid from home to another flower.

Hath a smile to her own celestial ire.

Whereat I heard a cry as an enchanted night,

Along an echo to the ripple and the hook,

Before thy smile my longing shall be to thee,

Alone her calm regret blooms in her first delight;

First in the radiant hue of her dusky face,

Cometh her happy maiden of footsteps and play,

Fair as a naked light of a shining meadow,

Puts on a golden spear, a tired desire,

Silent as dawn remembering eternity.

Each one had taken in the happiness of love,

Light of familiar earth, no different thing,

Held Ione a silence to every call.