The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone.
O man! hold thee on in courage of soul
Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way,
And the billows of clouds that around thee roll
......
The wrathful winter, 'proaching on apace,
With blustering blasts had all ybar'd the treen,
And old Saturnus, with his frosty face,
With chilling cold had pierc'd the tender green;
The mantles rent, wherein enwrapped been
The gladsome groves that now lay overthrown,
The tapets torn, and every bloom down blown.
The soil, that erst so seemly was to seen,
Was all despoiled of her beauty's hue;
......
Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me;
But since that I
Must die at last, 'tis best
To use myself in jest
Thus by feign'd deaths to die.
Yesternight the sun went hence,
......
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.
I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
......
The American Spirit speaks:
"If the Led Striker call it a strike,
Or the papers call it a war,
They know not much what I am like,
Nor what he is, my Avatar."
Through many roads, by me possessed,
He shambles forth in cosmic guise;
He is the Jester and the Jest,
And he the Text himself applies.
......
The past is a lesson, not a prison,
The past is a mentor, not a captor.
The past is a tale, not a jail,
The past is a page, not a cage.
The past is a foundation, not a stagnation,
The past is a phase, not a maze.
The past is a guide, not a slide,
......
Arising with a flicker of hope
Desperate attempts at perfection
Failing, falling deeper with each leap
Only to fade into oblivion
Seeking futile validation, for the sense of dignity
Replacing dream with duty, for the prize of power
Bittersweet memories forging the journey
Is there a purpose, I ponder
......
But I have a Choice – and forgive me t ' be straight
Life is so – and I don’ need to pace
my whole days – bearing a grunge
on Her Beauty’s Face.
I cannot stay a baby if I'm to set you free.
For I have to climb the steep hill called Calvary.
I need to leave the manger to become a man,
and follow the path that completes Salvations plan.
Although you've just celebrated my nativity,
another thirty years have been given to me.
There are people to heal and I've so much to say
to spread the Good news and walk the heavenly way.
......
Somethin’ very good ‘s happen’
while Azure Cantilena
gingles on my mind – self-curving latitudes
of spritzful euphoria.
Chili in tiny bowls – and then chill out – The Sunset
......