After The Music Has Played Poem by James McLain

Mystic yogi why my window face is full.
Love yourself and you go on and.
M is for the magic that you feel.
The sun has settled in the west one hears.
That cast of people rats they fear,
blind eyed the river south it flows.

The border north most soldiers go.
While to the east in dreams our thoughts they know.
Upright sitting sleep it grows.
Comes night and monologue is heard.
Bonney lads each maid, she bends to pick a rose.