Sunset o’ old ages
Turmoil toils as scrolls prescribe
Baby skin to beard in instant’s eye
Thick and coarse the horsemen ride
Sour-bitter-none fruit the lamb’s trees provide
Vile and stained veering t’ wide gate prize
Resilient sheep tarry, word by side
Fasted-sheered for sake of absent pride
Set o’ sun of ages old
To bide groom meets bride
No comments:
Post a Comment