We must not be sad
Under an ancient moon
Where the glistening waterways move
And the owl and the night hawk listen
Trees that reach out with strong branches
Caressed by a tender breeze
And loons flying over the thatch
And eyes that are darker than these
In the hollow beside the copse
Waits a figure, in the tangled deep
Praying for another chance
While the priest and the laborer sleep.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 4:40 PM UTC
We must not be sad
Under an ancient moon
Where the glistening waterways move
And the owl and the night hawk listen
Trees that reach out with strong branches
Caressed by a tender breeze
And loons flying over the thatch
And eyes that are darker than these
In the hollow beside the copse
Waits a figure, in the tangled deep
Praying for another chance
While the priest and the laborer sleep.
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