The night has dropped, a dark magician’s cloak,
Upon these haunted ragged hills of eld,
And here the moonless night has thus impelled
My mind to thoughts fantastical, baroque.
In years long gone a druid to me spoke
Of crimson dawns when Winter streams all swelled,
When these same hills cried out, rebelled,
And terrified both priest and common folk.
Ah, that was long ago, when other gods
Dealt harshly with the ways of feeble men,
So wayfarer rejoice, each flower nods
In balmy Summer breezes once again,
Though still on moonless nights like this I fare,
And drift upon the icy haunted air.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Superb
Wow, I love this one especially the imagery. Your writing is always excellent, my friend. Thank you for sharing this one.
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This is a wonderful read. You have taken the Italian sonnet and turned it into magic and fantasy in lines that flow like honey. You composed the feeling of one remembering what once was so well here.
Love,
Amera♥
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