White Cliffs
The tide draws in
The billions of invertebrate dead
Give up their ghostly whiteness to the dark
Man makes his sacrifice
The sea rolls on
Faith whispers in the dying moments
And where hope fails the sun will rise again
inspired mysteries, mysterious inspirations
3 Comments:
Feste sings
When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came, alas, to wive (wife?),
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.
A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
But that's all one, our play (song) is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.
"When you see millions of the mouthless dead
Across your dreams in pale battalions go..."
I hereby state a guideline that comments on my posts should not exceed the length of those posts. *grin*
Post a Comment
<< Home