Tide

On weary feet the dreaming dreamer weeps

For that what never was could taste so sweet.

The guise of life has near quite stripped his mind

Of all unneeded strife �" t’was left behind.

So there he stares into the bless’ed light,

To see more clear the world of ever-might.

But dreams of dreams died like the spring to frost

For caught in sandy glass; his years had lost.

That time spent pining life lived through the haze

Lead but to more the giving way his days.

But tis a tale of storms, its warning gale.

Our ship, the dream, must white-blue ocean sail,

For we, the dreamers, captains of our fate

 Must look ahead and not to past escaped.

These winds, they gust, and lest to tide we ride

We risk to only dream that distant side

Author's Note

Wrote this as an assignment. I think I implemented the iambic pentameter correctly. It is supposed to be a knock-off of one of Chuacers Canterbury tales. Anyhow, I'm exhausted, and without want to say more. Night all.