Of Dreams I Cast Poem by Charles Bernabi

I neither dream of love nor wife to keep,
Then faced with despair that I fear.
When springtime's here, and willow trees weep,
In days of sorrow, would bring me cheer.

To heed the call, lest hell I should meet,
And damage my life or have it torn.
Ere childhood dreams having begat conceit,
If from dirt I rose, then emerge forlorn.

Where loveless pride shall give me hope,
Not for rare charity or deserving deed.
But a silken path, that I take, and an upward slope,
Which brought me to seek a shallow plead.

And laid them wrapped in lousy stakes,
How horrible that implore I takes.
There haunts me yet the ghost of my past,
Settling in on a mystic dream I cast.