posted on Jul, 18 2012 @ 08:43 AM
E're I do count the marching of thy days,
A pain beset and tears besot time task,
And note olde Fortune's crass sepulchral ways
Which called thy kin from early times to last-
I find in me the heaviness of lead
Poured on souls too slow to flee earth's drag
And wonder what words heart of thee hath said
Where hope behind the poisoned plan doth lag.
Yet in thy azure eyes another tale be told
And by thy burning heart new portraits etched
That those who look upon thy loving soul
See in their reflection heaven stretched
Across the world as on a Lighted Wall.
Yea, nearing to the Wall is shadow small.