by Mike Monroe
so till the sun bestrode the sky at high noon
the weapons hurtled side-to-side and men kept falling
already they were approaching those farthest acres
those final fields where only the great war-heroes
had their preserves
death ready stands to interpose his dart
fearless to be overmatched by living might
but more horrible than that
is the curse in a dead man's eye
seven days and seven nights I saw that curse
and yet I could not die
these were his words
and when a god had urged
the singer began to start his chant
and never yet since high in paradise
over the four rivers the first roses blew
came purer pleasure unto mortal kind
the forms of all things are derived from their genius
which by the ancients was called
an angel and a spirit and a demon
and never yet since high in paradise
over the four rivers the first roses blew
came purer pleasure unto mortal kind
these were his words
and when a god had urged
the singer began to start his chant
but more horrible than that
is the curse in a dead man's eye
seven days and seven nights I saw that curse
and yet I could not die
death ready stands to interpose his dart
fearless to be overmatched by living might
already they were approaching those farthest acres
those final fields where only the great war-heroes
had their preserves
so till the sun bestrode the sky at high noon
the weapons hurtled side-to-side and men kept falling
the forms of all things are derived from their genius
which by the ancients was called
an angel and a spirit and a demon
so till the sun bestrode the sky at high noon
death ready stands to interpose his dart
and yet I could not die
these were his words
over the four rivers the first roses blew
the weapons hurtled side-to-side and men kept falling
fearless to be overmatched by living might
the singer began to start his chant
and when a god had urged
seven days and seven nights I saw that curse
already they were approaching those farthest acres
and never yet since high in paradise
over the four rivers the first roses blew
has the singer yet begun to start his chant
the forms of all things are derived from their genius
which by the ancients was called
an angel and a spirit and a demon
so till the sun bestrode the sky at high noon
the weapons hurtled side-to-side and men kept falling
already they were approaching those farthest acres
those final fields where only the great war-heroes
had their preserves
death ready stands to interpose his dart
fearless to be overmatched by living might
but more horrible than that
is the curse in a dead man's eye
seven days and seven nights I saw that curse
and yet I could not die
(Continued)
Quotes Used For These
Previous Poems
More Poems
Back to Index
E-mail the Poet