what former truths do we condemn in tasting lies from lesser men as worldly tongues no wit impart if they be divorced from their hearts, for men of envy, false and guile hold darkest sin behind their smiles, thus is duty for our honest souls the heart’s convictions to behold.
melting moments weep through lace seasoning this special place with those flavours so intense to spice the taste of remembrance this reverie has yet to pass but in its form my thoughts trespass and stain them with its watermark which shines as beacon in dreams dark
where sleeps the gone spring now that young winter’s here is she in her nest a-dreaming lost to waking for the year, and does she dream of buds anew sprouting from the restful cold and of each flower that once grew in bright new times of old, or do her reveries contain no memories of the past but are the shadows to refrain her final days now cast.
there are still roses though blackened now by the touch of November”s kiss there are still roses frost bitten shadows of velvet rubied summer’s bliss there are still roses their fragrance lost to the winds of winter’s breath there are still roses to bloom once more and promise life e’er in the midst of death
oh give to me pine shadows to guard me from the flames that lap my flesh from tarmacadam in the lands we’ve tamed oh bury me in graven glades away from other men and let the forest comfort me til’ autumn flies again and decks the land in golden snows to cool me when I sleep but for now give me pine shadows for dreams of woodlands deep
what higher liturgy can be than communion with these trees that stand as defence to the woes less worthy deities impose upon men lost to empty words of promised life through suffered burdens, yet this arboreal respite comforts against all holy spite thus let me splendour in the trees for here I find my soul at ease.