Travel

Snowflaked angels falling lightly In darkness of the evening stir As I fallowed footsteps queerly On old-fashioned horse with spur To travel where others have been Places where others have verified I passed by the sleeping village And fields frozen near by Watched thatched roofs full of snow Where other travelers sleeping lie Then I rode the trodden path Through the forest of antient blight Into a meadow of angel buds Blossoms of bright yellow groom Wind stoked petals bright Near a brook cheery and cool I let the horse graze the land I laid my head on soft ground Hopping the brook will tell me Where and why I came around