Walking in the whispering wood
Past the fallen leaves
A boundless mist upon the mood
Settles unbereaved
Brushing past the moonlit trees
I came upon a clearing
And then I sank upon my knees
Filled with awful yearning
For dancing stars above the night
And vasty spirits beyond my sight
And knowledge, for which no man knows
But yet strives still, long and slow.
2 comments:
Kind of a peculiar cross between 'The Tempest' and 'The Raven'. Shakespeare and Poe? *shudder*
"I can call spirits from the vasty deep."
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