Finding Song

the once exhalted minstrel
whose songs oft full of mirth
had brightened days and nights for us
now sleeps beneath the earth
his voice no more to sing of love
no music scented air
silence deafening the land
now he’s no longer there
but in the warm midsummer
when dawn’s early smile appears
echoing in birdsong’s joy
maybe you can hear
a melody familiar
to those of sometime when
ballads lifted our poor souls
and the minstrel lives again

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