Let me chance upon a well-hidden nook
Where my thoughts can assemble in peace,
There I shall scribble in my poetry book
Words and verses moaning for release;
A field of daisies nodding in good cheer
Would make a poet feel most welcome here
Watch me amble to the top of that hill
Where the sweet heather perfumes the air,
And the clear mountain springs sputter and spill
Over ferns happily dwelling there;
Content, I'll write under the moon's bright eye,
For a poet needs that jewel of the sky
As tides ebb and flow o'er the sleeping sea,
They'll watch me write with a fiendish zest,
Having given all to my poetry,
On some grassy knoll, I'll then take rest;
O, what joy and pride shall course through my veins
If but one voice praises this poet's strains!
More verse still awaits - I've not been dismissed,
But pity me not for this long day,
Though stricken by pain more than by love kissed,
This poet's heart shall have had its say;
And may each poem be the golden chain
That lifts some heart from its prison of pain
I love all the lines, especially the last couplet; that means 2 lines, right? :) And you're tempting me to attempt this fascinating rhyme scheme which, of course, you sailed through breathlessly. I'm tempted, but probably too lazy or forgetful to do it. One for MyPoemList and perhaps a future showcase. Bravo! bri :) I hope your veins were ready for my praise!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
BUT..... what the Hell does Santuarium mean?