Saturday, December 16, 2006

Eulogy

If life is,As many poets have held it,But a fleeting momentary dreamwe should all be loathed to awakeTo eternities grim reality.
Youth is but a hope of gainand gardens wherein bloomlove's sensuous roses.We will not be made to live again.......and our names will be forgotas soon as the casket closes.
And where are those we loveIn the hour of our greatest pain?.......They are all asleep in their bedsDreaming of tomorrowsand tomorrow's cheap,borrowed gain.while you, my distant friend,Brush the dust from off your eyesTo wake in some distant planewherein all poets sing in praiseof bygone days and long lived friends
Hymns to the suffering soulsWho on wings of woefulmeloncholic hopeDie alittle while each day.......And long to fly from where their bones will remain......And all that's leftare the sharp cliffs of highpassionand sentences writ......Though your bonesto dust will changeYour words shall not decay......And may you rest in peacetill the coming hourOf our waking hour...
if life is truly but a dream...

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