| |
The Bird Song of Wayreth Forest
|
|
Easeful the forest, easeful its mansions perfected
Where we grow and decay no longer, our trees ever green,
Ripe fruit never falling, streams still and transparent
As glass, as the heart in repose this lasting day.
Beneath these branches the willing surrender of movement,
The business of birdsong, of love, left on the borders
With all of the fevers, the failures of memory.
Easeful the forest, easeful its mansions perfected.
And light upon light, light as dismissal of darkness,
Beneath these branches no shade, for shade is forgotten
In the warmth of the light and the cool smell of the leaves
Where we grow and decay; no longer, our trees ever green
|
|
Here there is quiet, where music turns in upon
silence,
Here at the world's imagined edge, where clarity
Completes the senses, at long last we behold
Ripe fruit never falling, streams still and transparent.
Where the tears are dried from our faces, or settle,
Still as a stream in accomplished countries of peace,
And the traveler opens, permitting the voyage of light
As air, as the heart in repose this lasting day.
Easeful the forest, easful the mansions perfected
Where we grow and decay no longer, our trees ever green,
Ripe fruit never falling, streams still and transparent
As air, as the heart in repose this lasting day.
|
| |
Morris' Love Poem
|
|
|
My hand do hold, my love, my light,
My hand do hold, my dearest treasure;
Your love I clasp inside so tight,
As dear to me as Oath and Measure.
|
|
| |
Three Sheets to the Wind
|
|
Sing as the spirits move you,
Sing to your doubling eye,
Plain Jane becomes Lovable Lindas
When six moons shine in the sky.
Sing to a sailor's courage,
Sing while the elbows bend,
A ruby port your harbor,
Hoist three sheets to the wind.
|
|
Sing while the heart is cordial,
Sing to the absinthe of cares,
Sing to the one for the weaving road,
And the dog, and each of his hairs.
All of the waitresses love you,
Every dog is your friend,
Whatever you say is just what you mean,
So hoist three sheets to the wind.
|
| |
The Lark, the Raven,
and the Owl
|
|
|
The light in the eastern skies
Is still and always morning,
It alters the renewing air
Into belief and yearning.
And larks rise up like angels,
Like angels larks ascend
From sunlit grass as bright as gems
Into the cradling wind.
The plain light in the east
Contrives out of the dark
The machinery of the day,
The diminished song of the lark.
|
|
But ravens ride the night
And the darkness west,
The wingbeat of their hearts
Large in a buried nest.
Through night the seasons ride into the dark,
The years surrender in the changing lights,
The breath turns vacant on the dusk or dawn
Between the abstract days and nights.
For there is always corpselight in the fields
And corposants above the slaughterhouse,
And at deep noon the shadowy vallenwoods
Are bright at the topmost boughs.
|
| |
Ceremony to the
Sky
|
|
Flame of life becomes flames of death;
Ashes of man and oak and pine
Mingle and soar in the painless night;
Follow the sun and find thy peace.
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
Krynnwoman.com does not publish any of the
products listed here. Though every effort has been made to ensure
that all information is accurate, Krynnwoman.com cannot guarantee
the accuracy of these listings. All works listed herein are copyright
©Wizards of the Coast and/or TSR. Product graphics are representational
only and are copyright ©Wizards of the Coast and/or TSR.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
