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Jesterhead
05-09-2010, 05:21 PM
Thou wast all that to me,
The green fields of paradise,
There a fountain was to see,
A green isle, deceit to fairy eyes.

All wreathed with fairy flowers,
And all the flowers were mine to be,
And blue uncertain buzz that is ours,
Between the light and me.

A saviour for our very own,
That did aribe, the stillnes light cast,
A hero too proud to be shown,
A dream too bright to last.

The light of life, the future cries,
To the sands upon the shore, no more,
To overcast the fright to live before thy lies,
Shall bloom the blasted tree soar.

Soaring sought a precipitate pathway,
Where a silvery veil in flames did fload down,
The very roses died, to never see one more day,
Saved only the divine lights in thy eyes frown.

To sparkle there a crystilline delight,
That with no doubt shined alone,
How silently serene a sea of pride, to forecast the night,
That is to be saved by bright light, but is yet to be frown.

Thou wast the green fields of paradise,
Of where a fountain is no longer there to see,
A green isle at sea, for deceit in fairy eyes,
Cause thou wast all that to me.

Buh4Bee
05-09-2010, 10:01 PM
This is beautifully romantic.

MorpheusSandman
05-10-2010, 11:34 PM
It certainly has some lush, romantic language but I'm not sure how well the archaisms work. It's a beautiful piece but very remote and detached and, excuse the adjective, imitative. I felt as if I've read this poem too many times before. It's well done in the tradition, certainly, but it lacks something unique to make it stand out from so many others like it.