Sunday, May 13, 2018

Poem Drafts

William Dawes on the Road

Swift in the night,
the trees rushing by,
the hooves on the path
like a drummed lullaby,
Boston behind,
Concord ahead,
message in hand,
through Boston Neck sped
a horse at full speed
with lives at the stake,
Hancock to warn,
the British to break.
Will Adams be saved?
Or Concord have aid?
Midnight comes soon;
a nation is made.


Lo, this infantry
of fragile parts!
May it be fortified
fully and lastingly
by signs of allegiance,
armors of grace,
that strengthen and ease,
restoring to place:
in fight like a sword,
in wound like a balm,
in throes of death
a resurrection.


The silent north star
shines from afar
and brave men fall dead where they are.

A heather bed is cold
for loyal men and bold;
and never's account made for why.
The tale will be told
by the young and the old;
but never return those who lie.
The blood trickles far
as dark black as tar;
yes, brave men lie still where they are.

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