Þe Bard Of Avon - Poem by Andhy Shakespeare
On þe land of kyngs
Stonde up a lovely citee
Þe cyte of þe bet bard eure
Stonde up a for-old house
Þe hous of þe bet bard eure
Eche angle of þe house
Felte dimension of fifetende age
Eche rowm of þe house
Felte þe breath of hym blowynge
Euen Ik neuere loke thee
3et, thy soule stayeth in me
Euen Ik neuere touche thee
3et, thow hast been one in me
Thow hadde wryten opus fele-folde
Þey hadde been flowynge insyd of pulse
Thy opusses weren þe bet golden eure
Þey fléow wið my blod to-gadere
Sonnets þat thow makede
Could maken me lyf na ende
So softe thy sonnets obsesse my soule
Could maken me flye to þe holi-palace
O my þe meste honorare-abil kyng...
O my honorem kyng, William Shakespeare...
Thow art my beloved kyng
þe kyng of bard is in thee
Thow art i-lyv in my soule
þe 3ape soule is in thee
O þe Bard of Avon...
O William Shakespeare...
- Andhy Shakespeare
Copyright © 2013 Andhy Shakespeare. All rights reserved
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