The Diviner

When the diviner reaches out for truth And winds of fury hurry through the plains, The youth of summer loses all her gains Though love’s caresses linger long and smooth. When time is lost at silly childhood’s will Or gained again at life’s untimely end, The heart is keen old sorrows to amend Though all this fades and grudges come to nil. When all seems lost, though much has been regained By toil and sweat or at the will of chance, The sternest hero’s heart is piercèd by the lance Of old remorse, confessed anew or feigned. When joy stands still and anger rises mute Against the schemes put forth across its way, The lot of man seems dull and merely play To those who hear the graveyard’s solemn lute. When the diviner moves unheard until The joy of youth is but an old man’s pain, The bards speak out downwind at will: The shine of life is washed away by rain. Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com