G
Guest
Guest
These days of toil and worried brow,
Sinking from the vernal deep,
Enveloping my mortal coil
With peals of thunder in warning kept.
The sleeping thoughts of barreled roll
Along routes of rule;
How can we sleep
When dicy men slide times aflow
In decimation, for nought but control
Of infant thought and growing pains
To meek surrender?
And follow lines and quarreled flow
Into a distant outward show
Of confidence, disquieted within a garment.
This sullen practice pricked the surface,
While a silent art apprenticed
Learning's ever doubtful travel:-
To pick, and tug, and to unravel.
Mazy stares from vacant eyes
Of resignation's terminal blow....
These tales of toil and worried brow
Cling to the watchful child, ever
Mindful of a questionable gain,
While the zoned-out mime through
The motions of our true persuit;
With texture, weight, price and measure
Outdoing our beleagured kind.
"These Days of Toil"
Sinking from the vernal deep,
Enveloping my mortal coil
With peals of thunder in warning kept.
The sleeping thoughts of barreled roll
Along routes of rule;
How can we sleep
When dicy men slide times aflow
In decimation, for nought but control
Of infant thought and growing pains
To meek surrender?
And follow lines and quarreled flow
Into a distant outward show
Of confidence, disquieted within a garment.
This sullen practice pricked the surface,
While a silent art apprenticed
Learning's ever doubtful travel:-
To pick, and tug, and to unravel.
Mazy stares from vacant eyes
Of resignation's terminal blow....
These tales of toil and worried brow
Cling to the watchful child, ever
Mindful of a questionable gain,
While the zoned-out mime through
The motions of our true persuit;
With texture, weight, price and measure
Outdoing our beleagured kind.
"These Days of Toil"
