Sonnet#1 - Prelude to Freedom.
My loves, my wife our darling newborn child,
For us I wander through the open wood,
And forage in the shadowed forest wild.
To bring all a husband and father could,
To keep his kin well fed, secure and warm.
Scavenging towards freedom spirit strong,
Though oft broken backed, weary muscle torn,
I whistle carefree tunes the whole day long,
With wheelbarrow, flask and trusty bow saw.
I pull, I push, I heave I tote my haul,
So our lights may burn brightly ever more,
So that our flames need never be kept small.
So come cold Winter nights we all can share,
Contented peace warmed in crib and armchair.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1878 - 3 May 1916)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(1924 - 2000)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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