Now Time is But A Ghostly Myth

Oh seething grace of the shepard's

Woes- Tis so, I have all but lost my wretched soul

 

Now time is nothing but a ghostly myth

Into the swamps of a writhing Dis

Raising darkness to a deathly Mist

Upon my shadowed continance

 

Haven't you seen that immortal cloud

Written in the skies of a trumpet loud?

Crossing the Universe in Death's pursuit

Shall I now forsake Reason's truth?  

 

Tis nothing to me now-- tell me its good

To live so close to that blighted wood

Alone and cast into the doubts

Of a sudden and shameless bout

Drunk on berrywine.

I shall swear now to seek my sweet Divine.

Reviews

[Leslie Philibert]

What I enjoy here is the echoes of traditional 19th century lyric, the tis and wretched souls and other usage , it tells me that you have worked on your poetry by reading a lot of Keats and Byron, and employ good rhymes and use solid verses, a good piece of work, well done.