Juvenilia: The Poet’s Song

As the poet skipped through mire and fell,
In the land of Bitterness,
He came he to a weathered knoll
And laid him down to rest.

And as in semi-slumber stretched
There came to him a shadow fell,
A nightmare vision of the mind –
A monstrous thrall from deepest Hell.

The bard did struggle with its hold,
He fought it off with conscious mind –
The sins and purge of a thousand years,
Enthroned in goodness sweet and mild.

The dread now fled, the poet rose,
In harmony with earth did walk
And lo! About him he did see
The tranquil land of joyous love.