Tonight I Cried Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

It was the summer of joy,
and so I remembered,
for the sun never slept.
yet deep in the heavens,
she hung her yellows,
and sent smiles my way.

Then rain came and brought a swallow,
who sang the old norse,
of how Olaf wept upon his sword,
that bid his skald away.

Then the liege lords who have long forgotten,
the crackling silence foregone,
of warriors dead with wyvern eyes,
who galvanized the years of time.

Free of thunder they came around,
Dancing in kyrtill today,
For no faithful followers could end the saga,
Of the sainthood circle of friends.

So to heaven I threw my flasks,
and let the wine pour down,
then looked Thiasis through the eyes,
as master of perils divine.

Orion spoke of the morning star,
Then heeled my blemished scar,
For the eagle has come to lay her wings,
And give this server flight.

To the royal burgh I have mourned,
From Kilkenny and beyond,
Lest the Annal of the four masters,
save Desmond from the Pale.

Here I stand above it all,
Perched upon a hill,
Bound by greens that till this land,
That lodge the blood begone.

Defiant villagers still remain,
vesting gorges picturesque.
For the hands of history thread ravines perennial throughout the land.