Edwardus Quintus
Let me now look upon
The vast stoney silence,
Far from Stratford's snare.
Let me hear the wind sing,
Brushing fast by my ear,
Instead of intrigue's voice.
Let me now fill my lungs
With the sweet scent of Spring,
Companions with the wind...
Howling sorrowfilled
With my brother's cries,
Stirring up dusty ghosts...
Rememberance's flicker
Ignte to sustain me
As my worlds suffocate...
Towering ancient stones;
For pity, has turned red.
Rough cradle for tender babes.
Fresh blood, by tyranny pools
In sullen reflection,
Has laid this House in ruin.
--Lynne R. Freels, 18 July 1996
© Copyright 1996, Lynne R. Freels
