Saturday, January 20, 2007

Father

the poet scribes his words of verse
for us to read and hear
and in these lines he does rehearse
the lee and lay most dear

his words they swirl so bravely forth
amongst life, that colored plain
though strong they fight and great their worth
who will note despite their pain?

the words they chant aloud our times
an anthem to the best, oh lore!
and bardic tales and storied lines
are xenia, and aegis, and more

passed man to man these words bestow
a thousand genera in their bud
'tis momentus that our children know
we're sparks housed in clays of mud

this is the gift from the poet, thought
giv'n long aged times ago
and kept aflame by the next epoch
of men, and what the old ones know.

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