Evening

O beauteous eve in hamlet's meads! Thy magic lores all us enthrall You are the breath of forest weeds You are the angels airy call I see the dusky sky and trees They all with soul of nature breath Wild daisies blood from veins squeeze And doth so forlorn lonesome heath The smoke that rised from the yards Calls ancient stories in our minds Which told in books by heavens Lord That all one in thy mystery finds The trees whisper in holy dread While lakes and rivulets sing and flow In woods the blooms in comfort sleep Then curtains drop on magic show

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Triny Xiang

Date: 5/9/2023 7:52:00 AM

I can feel the meadows of Arden in your poem. I like your use of Old English such as mead and eve. If only we could keep the curtain open to mystery a bit longer. But then, that's the price Adam and Eve paid for knowledge. Your poetry is beautiful as ever.

Sabahat Batool
Date: 5/10/2023 10:12:00 PM

Loads of Thanks. Your words shows that you are the lover of nature, dales, hills and meads but you are even more passionate lover of the world of myth and Lord. It's superb the way how you feel the echo of Meadows of Arden