Hm. Nes Poems
The Tale Of William Tell
The arrow flew, but none could tell
If apple pierced or humble son,
Until one or the other fell-
Determined contest lost or won.
The dart flew like a bat from hell
Toward Walter, son of William Tell.
Sir William Tell refused to bow
Before the lords who ruled the land.
And hated they his stubborn prow,
But feared the crossbow in his hand.
'He must be forced to bend somehow! '
So swore they all with solemn vow.
And then: 'A contest we shall call!
'Let William shoot his famous bow
'At distance great and target small,
'And so by doing he can...
For Edgar Allan
No not alone I dare suggest,
Though all alone you felt; the rest
Forsaking you upon the stage
Midst blinding light and audience rage.
A mother dead, a father gone
Adopted, yet no name to don.
The demons haunting every wall
And floor, their brew of bitter gall
Assailing purest love; your jewel