To sleep
By Grannyrosie
TO SLEEP Tis tired these eyes, true sleep denied. Alas, I mourn full well, The ghosts that do, serchen myn sleep, Sith sorry tales t’would be to tell. Far in to the horizon blind, Midst fog, and raging seas, Darkness descended ‘pon this soul, Verily myn heart does grieve. The passage of so many nights, Adrift on life’s wild ocean. The horror bound in loneliness, None could yet kan none notion. Blazing Sol toold each day, Truly, sorely he dost play, Upon this mind, with such a daunce, Survival, t’was as if by chance. Each day, in blindness, such it was, Derkeste even became myn only friend. Lifting me, in somme urgency, Searching for life’s end. Sorwe, on and on, in persecution run, This sorry lot, alas tis me, Wouldst dare defy the grace of GOD, Lete unworthy vessel taak to sea. Gale for savacioun, arriven yet the stillness, Far out, in the wilde gloom, Alas it is, I knowest full well, Comth forth the hond of doom. Enough, enough, pursue me not, Hear now, beseeching cry. Leve me of this tempestuous lot. Mooder, one last, sweet lullaby. With sincere apoligies to my dear friend, Chaucer. Written December 20th, 2001 © on Dec 20 2001 02:22 AM PST, Patricia Rosenberg 0 • 10
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"TO SLEEP..."