Mid A Bell Appeal (Old Poem) Sweet are the peals, mid a bells toll appeal! Such suggestive sounds - near there, a face, Of a moon – amidst the stars bathing place. Seized by pend’lums stroke of bearing steel Turned half a-bout, t’wards a land of Leal. Eyes of song - edge of nights littoral lace. As I wake in the quiet morning trace Nearest still cries - heirs to the earless seal Ah! Now shineth pon thy lips – the bell tolls As I dreamt would to be - to appease me As my joy of mirthless moaning fadeth Hence, mid bells twilit twill, of rib-bon souls Of thy lips gather’n tolls - I embrac’d thee Mid a wolfs tooth, A tongue mid shadows death
Posted on: Tue, 20 Aug 2013 04:09:12 +0000
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