The Lion watches high and proud
His roar forever silent The milkmaid's woes upon her brow As she travels with her basin The thinker sits, pen in hand A book doth brew in mind The grave the place these must end Look there and thou shall find A soldier's grave A child lost Flowers bloom As angels watch Fear not the Lion's teeth Nor the trumpet blown The grave in our eternal sleep The last stop for our bones Watched over by stones Peaceful Eternal A journey ended with return Ash to ash, dust to dust Resist it not by will nor force Tis the only course For time is the fire we mortals burn Final rest our bodies earn The Lion always vigilant It waches, waits, and knows
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Douglas Karson
I love poetry. Archives
June 2024
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