The Gates of Dawn
Time once saw here, a spirited sprite
Of whimsy, hope, and ceaseless delight,
But broken now as the breathless wight
In solemn, stoic, revered respite.
With wild abandon, the day is gone.
Obtrude the night, deathly dosser drawn
O’er memories now of those days bygone.
Immortal made from a life foregone.
Enthralled of the Piper’s tenebrous tune
Of sorrow, despair, and dire doom.
So bellow bereft, herald-trumpet dragoon
Loving dirge of laud to fervid consume
So no songs shall sing of mirth tonight
Nor shall fires burn of a lucid light.
For what here still bides is severed sight,
A hindered heart, and rustic rite
Lonelier now does the way wend on
As a hapless haunt, ere life withdrawn
By fate; ferried off to meet anonTo gather there at the Gates of Dawn
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