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Written at the Close of a Dead Language: A Sonnet
Posted by Noah, May 14, 2017. 594 views. ID = 7267

Written at the Close of a Dead Language

Posted by Noah, May 14, 2017. 594 views. ID = 7267
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When out my window look I to the wood,
Mine eyes observe great beauty in the scene.
The sky, the trees, the brook—yea, call them mean
And speak as great a lie as e’er you could.
The burning red and gold of autumn should,
As should midsummer’s life and winter’s preen,
Evoke from me such words as fit a queen—
Yet they are all too lovely and too good.

Content am I to gaze upon the glen
And fill my eyes with life and lovely things;
To write them down upon a page with pen,
Brings not such joy as looking at them brings.
And likewise, thou shouldst quit this poem, friend,
And eye the sight which God’s great glory sings!

Copyright 2017 Noah. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
 


   
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