Sunday, June 14, 2015

A Proposal

When kingdoms fail and chaos wins the day,
Though I wear chains of desolate defeat,
And comrades of my youth be marched away
To die and sweat and bow a mean retreat;
When plague shall wipe from earth the sword and shield
And farmers leave the lonely plow to die,
The oxen lowing, kings in unturned field
Insentient ‘neath pale unfeeling sky;
When all the world is shrouded with a night
That poetry itself cannot abide,
An age from which the words have taken flight
Because the poets one and all have died:
            For you my love I still will always sing
            Till close of time the fire and ice will bring.