Sunday, July 16, 2006

A Poem Draft

Protreptic for Prothalamion

Trip the tongue on love, keep the time;
bear up your broken soul, and bear in mind
that every poem passes, and when it's passed
the spirit's light remains, for love will last.
Love is legend's match; it lies in wait
for worthy men and wise with hearts of faith
to fill the face with cheer and fling the snake
that murders, maims, and lies into the lake.
So bring your bright-lit joys and ring the bells;
let will be wed to love, which makes all well.