Evergreen

Time will fly, or mouth a crooning dirge, Across the sweep of ancient worlds, Visioned by the few who see; Myth and magic conjure sights And sounds of a dimension lost Where all creation longs to be. Time will flit, or haul a scythe About the mind in measured drag To mark us of it's ruling ways; Evangelising nature's cause With business calm and resolute, Setting seal on all our days. Trees will grow and tower on, Magnificent of bough and leaf, Enduring of the modern spleen; Love be ours, held close and dear In mystic wood and verdant glade, In permanence, be evergreen...