a gentle breeze that blew upon
the western shores, the mighty trees,
the lakes and lees, the plains and moors.
And now the shining sun is gone
upon the western sund'ring shores.
I saw the waves, I heard the gull,
as sweet did lull by rocky caves
the gentle tide upon the hull;
the dusk not dull, we there abide
and watched the grey and frothing waves
as the wind through evening gently sighed.
and through a glade in an emerald wood
I walked alone on a sunlit way
and this, I said, was very good.
In Autumn bright the sunlight shone
on leaves of red and gold there set.
And there it was I walked alone
and this, I said, was better yet.
And then in Spring leaves once more shook
and I watched the flowers with dew refill.
I walked by a crystal babbling brook
and this, I said, was better still.
Snow and cold were all I knew
as Winter's wrath grew over Fall.
Now here at home with you I sit
and this, I say, is best of all.
and "Lady" one could rightly say
there came one cool as morning dew
and bright and fierce as sunlit day.
His eyes a color none could tell
from bronze, to brown, to stormy grey;
a heart of gold with hair of snow
that glistened in the light of day.
When morning broke in summertime
when youth was strong as rains in May
there fell on him a wintery clime
as he watched his parents pass away.
His brother too so shortly fell
and it seemed his happy days were done.
But a single joy he had to tell:
it was his precious little son.
A fisherman, a poet-bard,
a jack-of-all-trades till the end;
a craftsman with his fingers scarred,
a father, brother, lover, friend.
A sage in wisdom long he lay,
a hero fighting for the right,
a saint, as kind as summer day,
a gallant silver-armored knight.
A friend above all other friends
who took for himself no pack nor staff
but for others working till the end;
he was quick in anger, but quick to laugh.
though selfless, meek, and ever mild;
the hands of a worker though they be
still caress his newborn baby child.
His eyes so keen much sorrow knew
(much more so than they witnessed joy);
beside the rolling sea of blue
his only love: that little boy.
His face was stern but ever kind
and bore the marks of many years;
and one could see a blade-sharp mind
behind the eyes devoid of tears.
But eventide came hastily
and day died slowly into dark;
the body that so sure could be
now fell short of its destined mark.
His labored breathing soon grew cold
and eyes that pain so long had seen
now turned at last to streets of gold
and unseen distant gardens green.
The darknes fell, the day grew black,
and the tired now his rest espied:
the portal twixt the worlds did crack
and on that day, my father died.
His path led onwards, ever on,
to lands beyond this world so grim.
He, on a white ship, left to sail
where shadows would always part for him.