Notes About The Poem
This poem is about thr mind of my dreams that wander into the deep forest of the past, possibly ancestral remembrance.
Dost Thou Disport Thyself in Daily Joy?
Dost thou disport thyself in thy daily pilgrimage?
What calleth 'playtime' unto thy soul?
I find my joy in the presence of ancient trees.
Where vibrant hues do spiral wild and free.
Such forests stretch beyond the sight, far and deep.
For 'tis within the winding roads of sleep.
I wander, blessed by the light that slumbered brings.
Nature doth cast a gentle, cooling breath!
To soothe my spirit, far from thoughts of depth.
O, Golden Light! Grant me lengthened rest!
For my strange, painted trees must be addressed.
With joyous heart, I fashion things of naughty.
The muse cries, "Play!" with every color squeezed,
With twinning scrolls and fancies, well appeased.
'Tis here I take my leap,
Both bold and steep,
Into a bright and variegated heap!
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