Reapeth the withered with a tear laden cheek, plucketh the ripe with a laugh of pride,
his own lass , would daughter second be known,
such care he hath cherished , for the soil and its sown.
from the foul of weather-weed, to the stare of corvid eyes,
canst he protect and flourish his land,
but gets stabbed by a dagger , of the papers he signed,
with the count, with the lender ,
with the crown , with the dealer.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 4:02 AM UTC
Reapeth the withered with a tear laden cheek, plucketh the ripe with a laugh of pride,
his own lass , would daughter second be known,
such care he hath cherished , for the soil and its sown.
from the foul of weather-weed, to the stare of corvid eyes,
canst he protect and flourish his land,
but gets stabbed by a dagger , of the papers he signed,
with the count, with the lender ,
with the crown , with the dealer.
This piece is a partial repost of a larger poem (Of Iron, Grain and Fire) I had previously posted.
