‘Tis morning brewed and lasting sun,
That glows grey amongst fading clouds,
Whose soaring fire beat the aching drum,
That scorns his heart in dainty glow;
His words be told but knew not what said,
Casts an image lest so not be seen,
As great but earnest so fare he walks,
Though alone so fair and breathes again,
As he treads the path so lone and bare,
First he sees the life has he lived,
And once he clears the fog that stays,
So knew his life was just beginning.

Category:
Life, Nature, Poetry, Works
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