A Year of Years

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I knew a man who would stand idly by
And listen rapturously to a chime.
His glances strayed to neither gulf nor sky,
Tracking not the cares of capricious time.
Blade by blade his greensward was devoured,
Cast to darkness by blindness resolute,
Which a year of years his life had powered
‘Til he woke to solitude absolute.
In flowing eventide he sought about,
Cast raw yet rusty mesh, for game too frail;
His indifference had become a rout,
His pursuing foe maidenly and pale.
He said, “To me I must no longer lie:
The last to love will be the first to die.”





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NattyPie said...
Jun. 16, 2011 at 5:01 pm
Great language.
 
(Drew) replied...
Jun. 17, 2011 at 5:46 am
Thanks:) just something for English class
 
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