Un-Enchanted (day 2321)

No words to this song
All lost in the clouds
Hovering closely by
– A sadness knowing
Of this deepened change.

Yet what could I do?
What can I do?
What worth is life lived
Lacking pursuit?
Not to share
Dreams that I dare?
Remaining as silent as this song;
To not have asked
For your love?

So it doth appear
That the heart
Of our revered damsel
Remains lost to this
Repent sadness;
My dreams shan’t ring
As fair summer warmth.
No song can be sung,
Hovering as it may,
To ears that remain
Un-enchanted, un-chained.

Old English Accent (day 782)

It wasn’t too long ago that I
Wandering through fields waist high
Came upon one friendly blade of grass
That spoke to me in old English decree
Thus like:

Forsooth it is thy jolly Lombard
Erect in flight of recent folly
That doth not retire grand ambition
That doth not spare no damsel plight
Amongst thy gallows of conquered fate
Whence settling down amongst thou bromus
He contemplates his recent fight
And not one hour should pass thy penance
When thou stumblt upon a gift that gave
So lovely displayed be suit noble court
Of kindly and jolly King Edward the IV.
And in this gift so deep a sentiment
Earl Warwick, himself! ere be knelt
The gift to seekers shall be found
Not in man’s work but in mankind
Thou gift is also found upon
Thy brow of revelations crown

And to this joy that I’d now found
While wandering to and then to fro
Reciting, by name, the grass that grew
Here I would learn to love anew

North Thompson Field of Hay