Hero
No man is a god, fit to worship
There are no gods among fools of men
There are no men of honour
For it truly is a dying breed
That poet's still remember
And in there words our hope lives
Neither memory nor dream,
Forgotten rules of courtesy.
For truth and beauty,
Hope and grandeur.
Questioning of mans belief’s
Regardless of race or creed.
And still the genteel poets wonder
Where have the men of honour gone?
Who let them fade away?
Replaced by self seekers,
Greed and strife,
Truly for that is all it seems,
That survived our hero's plight
Copyright © Rebecca Clarke | Year Posted 2009
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