Eric Paeplow

Her Tears

Once I strode a silent dell
Where man nor beast, would dare not dwell
For man had gone unto wars
While trusting fate, to lucky stars
And held their post in azure towers
Where they fought for glory and fought for power
And in the mists, or in the haze
The soldiers fought, or dead they lay
So now we each, must all confess
To our fate, of restlessness
Where the race of man, cannot stand or stop
Nor save their airs, or brooding hearts
Or rest in silent solitude
Neath windless leaves of olden trees
Or on the shore of distant seas
Nor by the loss of friends long given
Who overflow the unquiet heavens
Decrying their fate to all who'd listen
And over the bodies, there that lie
In macabre scenes, before our eyes
And neath the flowers there that wave
Which weep above their nameless graves
And mask the dead neath fragrant tops
Then drown the dead with dawn's dew drops
Which slowly weep from delicate stems
As earth sheds her tears, upon her dead

Submitted: Monday, July 07, 2014
Edited: Monday, July 07, 2014

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