Richard S. Wells


William Shakespeare Whispering

.
Where winter's ragged comb courses my crown
Its subtle brush applies the mortal truth,
Life's lived through time and time will life confound
Leased long enough to rue a wasted youth,
I'll see soon fifty Autumns on this lease,
Am wise enough to fathom that it wanes,
Mayst day allot an ample light ere cease
Sufficient hours that modest words make plain
How in the finite space that breath bestow'st
A man had come to rise above the clay
Keen he that twilight bide when he's made ghost
Elude dark night until his scribed essay,
Sun's chariot your golden pilgrimage,
Pray tarry for a life too soon abridged.
Enobled he once known as Avon's Bard
Addressed fair youth in his first score of sonnets;
Release thine seed and thwart time's brisk boneyard,
Endure beyond life's curse, death's mark upon it,
Will couldn't know his tree by time decreased,
How paper, words are his posterity,
I'm cheered to find this beauty in death's beast,
Such light at dusk a gift of clarity,
Perchance the warmth thus found in Autumn's fire
Emits just flame enough to stay death's chill,
Redeems a life misspent too oft' in ire,
In such twilight yet burns a nova's quill,
Night need not be mere shadow masking fear,
Graves cannot snuff such light, our words, Shakespeare.
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