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
Copyright © Eton Langford | Year Posted 2016
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