Jerry Stokes || #4

There stood Jerry; quiet as ever, calm as always. He stood by the river, listening to the eager sound of the water splashing against the waves. His eyes closing peacefully, his hands opening to feel the breeze between his fingers. "Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. It is my lady. O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it."