A tribute to Keats.
O' nightingale,
Dryad of the sky,
My heart aches
When you sing
Your summer song.
How is it,
O' nightingale of yore,
You sing with sweet content
While we weep in the open streets?
With fullthroated ease,
You've sung your soul
Yet, today, I fear,
Will be my final song.
Fade, O' immortal one,
You were not born for death.
Fade and forget the perversity
That beguiles the hands of men.
I've served these streets,
O' nightingale,
I've served as best I could.
But now, O' winged angel of yore,
I pray for one
Final song.
Before I wake.
Before I sleep.
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Author:
rob2586 (
Offline) - Published: December 2nd, 2016 15:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments2
I love the title and the last two lines.
Love it,great write
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