|
| |
To Wand'Ring Minstrel Breezes
The rapturous oceans roar
And shout their praise in gospel waves
That crash and smash
Against a cold and distant shore.
The mountains sigh and moan,
Lift suppliant arms, sing paeans and psalms
That rise then echo back
A hollow, mocking tone.
The forest trees may bow their heads
And bend their knees, but not to pray.
Instead, if you should ask them why,
They pay no heedless god tribute,
They're merely giving mute salute
To wand'ring minstrel breezes passing by.
Copyright ©
Jim Slaughter
|
|