A Belloc Iv Poem by Morgan Michaels

Take no councils from the east:
old Eden was the place,
remember, where in arrogance
our parents fell from grace.

The east is where the sun crops up-
the young and callow sun
that friend and foe alike alack
so goldenly smiles on.

Yeh, so he rises in the east
and yes, his beams are pretty
but those that truck in such sweet yeast
shall bank but scorn and pity.

And, though he rises in the east
remember, mum, the west
is where, day done, his work complete,
he comes at last to rest.