Captain Cur (England)
Spectral Verses, I, The twilight and the gloom
What fair voice calls my name as I loiter in the grave
a poet now besieged with ignoble repartee,
death is just a misty cloud that hides the quilted waves
patterns of the fickle tides that charge then run away.
In my youth I sang great chants, my verse would never sway
banished from my native soil I sailed to war with fate,
hearing echoes from my past I fought in unknown bays
hoping for a hero's death my sins to mitigate.
Alas! No peace, no resting place, unsettling as the moon
where my spirit walks between the twilight and the gloom.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
were discussing Lord Byron
and this poem was composed.
I was encouraged to share it.
Comments about this poem (Spectral Verses, I, The twilight and the gloom by Captain Cur )
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