swift, the rills
* Second of three in this style of classic form - I hope you like it. *
~
swift, swift, the rills do run
swift from high the mountain
swifter tho', the running years
flowing through life's fountain
creep, creep, the brumal mists
creep 'midst fells and highlands
creeping 'round the peaks and years
mem'ries drowned like islands
drift, drift, my dreams to sea
drift like thought and feather
drifting toward a mortal bloom
thick with highland heather
sleep, sleep, at last to dream
sleep bides blessed and meek
sleep, come press a kiss goodbye...
so sweet now ... 'pon my cheek.
Copyright © 2021 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with GALA AI software )
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