Everything is done for the beauty of spring,
Every man shall taste his sweetness until he rises again.
Those with tears outshine the doers of good and character
Is the quality we uphold, we caress this jolly term forever.
Be still like the flower or rose, let no igneous rock brighten,
Let no stream become a noisy brook, with land at heart.
Everything is doing a special day and night, when crying men
Enter the copse of delight and leaves, that rot and dwell.
I cannot go to sleep or slumber, return then to those above
Might of a staring human, might of a ghostly humanoid,
Might of a judgement, might of light all around, and might
Encompassing the seas of work and toil and tumult.
Friday, November 10, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: spring