I am for one so spent in time,
Drew sunken cheeps in bitter rhyme,
Had I not been in past so fitter,
Nor never my lone state come bitter,
Then sat was I in lonely rock unmade,
Sang laments of lone stars to fade,
Then in light’s demise for words bade
Mine hourly depart from sun to hence,
Small my word casts from there whence
Grief conjures me a man to do worse
For simple tale upon my dreary hearse,
For I am distant past in little waste, Read More
Yond. The heart that meets the bay,
Long had they walked in spite of fear,
In bliss they sang and hopes ere rang,
The ears rung through sounds and hope,
Their lives relished the taste of Earth
For which no sea could never wash away,
And there stood this sight of great joy
Who knew which pill they ought to take.
Bitter nor sweet, nor salt and gruel
Could fuel the motion on mountain cliff,
For within this group one had heart to go
Beyond their group’s measure before the Sun. Read More
These words once I knew so soft,
As truth as known what could never beat,
The hand that takes my heart to sea,
Along the resting shore an hour resides,
Along the darkening glee no words replace,
That of every drop of night came flooding
The tears bestowed this sea flows above.
Moon, more my walks ‘neath its gaze leap,
More the waves to sign mine eyes at rest,
Who could not bear a sight so high this late
With drooping lids so shelter our holy rain.
This art I try but no gain I am but spent,
Withstood the words that long I wrote
Became the shadow of the words I ought be,
Then for each line a wave will wash away,
Ere no escape reels me from light to scorn,
Before I give my dues back for better born.
But light escaping
Nor is she cheating;
Footsteps long before
Ere looked, ere looked for
The shores so distant
Now left are nascent,
Woe more for more allowed,
These waves tremble loud,
Cool thine head so fair,
Hide within thy lair
And never, n’er shine,
Let all dark grow divine.
In spite of this day,
Shall beckon your ray,
Again shall it peer through,
Ere love in dark is through.
Half his life he spent wondering in shadow,
For no few than years would fail to pass,
Bitter more nor sweeter less comes to know,
And he ne not knew the terror that he was,
Until he became man, and so became him,
Ere swept glory wept ere really born,
Shaken from brow down to lidless whim
Who called on night in bittersweet scorn:
Oh, Moon. Don’t let the moon die so soon,
An hour for night in a single second,
Is but mine earnest fault in lasting boon,
Whose wrongs I am are but rights ere reckoned.
Out of the darkness their mighty fall,
From hence they rose ere more they throw,
In light of thirst they yonder grow,
Tender words thought at once so low,
And there begins a triumph better they call:
Wonders then for what he was, whom shall be,
These simple words; his mind so whispered far,
Tuned his mind to the sound his life ne does make,
And threw his eyes at reality’s greatest scar,
Whose life how fret could play not in tune. Ne. Read More
