A poem I’ve been working on. It’s rather archaic, and I don’t know that I am very proud of it, but I don’t think it’s going to get much better.
East of Moon, and west of Sun
Through golden lands the river runs
To glassy sea;
I sing to thee
And pray the night be not o’erlong.
The river winds its tangled way
Through mossy hills; with no delay
For night is long,
And comes the sun,
To sing thee waking to the day.
Then breaking, shattered, falls the stream
o’er crags–and rainbows in it teem
From sunny day;
And rush away
The river goes–for thus I sing.
Then joyous, splashing, hindrance-free
The river finds its home-to-be
And sweet it seems
As in a dream
I sing it dancing in the sea.
West of sun, and east of moon,
The river winds, and gently croons
That to the sea
At last go we
for everlasting joy we’ll die
But in my arms now gently lie
For I love thee,
And thou lov’st me
And morning comes eternally
In lands undying, where go we soon
West of sun, and east of moon.