The Rider
04-03-2009, 04:49 PM
A Poet for a Different Age
When vernal wind caress your face,
Be still the morning larks with lace
And in the pre-dawn morning glaze
Raise up your glass.
At last, I'm here
You'll shout, you'll cheer!
Brush off the last of Midnight fear
Near is the sun!
Yet though you've traveled very far,
Epiphany through alcohol,
This silence is the end of all.
Fall back to them.
Oh poet for a different age
Your time has past.
You are too late.
When vernal wind caress your face,
Be still the morning larks with lace
And in the pre-dawn morning glaze
Raise up your glass.
At last, I'm here
You'll shout, you'll cheer!
Brush off the last of Midnight fear
Near is the sun!
Yet though you've traveled very far,
Epiphany through alcohol,
This silence is the end of all.
Fall back to them.
Oh poet for a different age
Your time has past.
You are too late.