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Comments about Sam Bamford
Old Legends And Myths
Tell of the old, cold, legends and myths
Of the slow wet beat of the oars.
The shattered helms on the frozen grass
And the windswept song of the rowers.
Who left to tell? Stones, lichened, and grim
Stand alone where warriors fled
And the ears of corn, gathered and gone,
Were the only seed of the dead.
But say it again, what of the mists
That hid the spears from the sun?
And what of the hero who stood fast at dawn
Is it all forgotten and gone?
What still to say? Axe rusted, haft broken
The horns all winded and split
No blast can now ...