I Was Born
Let me count the days since spring
And with jays and canaries sing
The moment of birth. I was born
At the bud of the young ram's horn
Fiery as a Mars in his van of war
O I love to play the cliffs and scar
And dream beneath the moon. I
Was born to laugh in tigers' eye.
Yet on the day the calender shall count
Twenty eight sunrise and no more
The peaks the eagle use to mount
Will call my name, no more, no more
For each birthday now I hesitate
Contrite to die, and will not celebrate
The hurrying of my soul to the door
I cried too when I entered here before.
Therefore the song you hear when now
I sing, is an old lament from lovers' loss
The sun slants her shadows cross the bough
I face northwards in the growing moss
All birds fly north again, you know
And yet before me the white snow
The dimming light and horizon far
Before ever I cross the sultry bar.
I was born chasing moonbeams 'cross the sky
O I was born a man and so to die.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2009
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