red leaves

Oct. 26th, 2009 12:02 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

down south you forget the ripening leaves

and chilly mornings of bright october

no matter for redly a dying time grieves

 

sunlight on water fair smiling deceives

at dawn the frost shone hard on grass and clover

down south you forget the ripening leaves

 

yet clock there remains the swiftest of thieves

treating the same way both stayer and rover

no matter for redly a dying time grieves

 

telling each young one that what he believes

is false never true and patience is over

down south you forget the ripening leaves

 

slowly to slaughter we marched off the beeves

a suitable task for the youthful drrover

no matter how redly a dying time grieves

 

the adult must measure how much he achieves

in calm acquiescence knowingly sober

down south you forget the ripening leaves

no matter how redly a dying time grieves

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
slaves built the road we think this as we pass
feet weary as so many feet before
the silent generations under grass

a woman passes smoking on an ass
she's heading towards a most welcome door
slaves built the road we think this as we pass

reaching the church too early for low mass
we pass on by wondering at the score
the silent generations under grass

too many here would harry or harass
any who dared ask for just a little more
slaves built the road we think this as we pass

too many years of blending race and class
have left the good folk sad and all too sore
the silent generations under grass

all is distorted memory's no glass
to see or to reflect on all this lore
slaves built the road we think this as we pass
the silent generations under grass

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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