Spectral Verses, I, The Twilight And The Gloom Poem by Captain Cur

What fair voice calls my name as I loiter in the grave
a poet now besieged with ignoble repartee,
death is just a misty cloud that hides the quilted waves
patterns of the fickle tides that charge then run away.
In my youth I sang great chants, my verse would never sway
banished from my native soil I sailed to war with fate,
hearing echoes from my past I fought in unknown bays
hoping for a hero's death my sins to mitigate.
Alas! No peace, no resting place, unsettling as the moon
where my spirit walks between the twilight and the gloom.