’tis a way of things

’tis a way of things
That they come and part
And now marches the year,
All worn,and all spent,
So bent on her sleep.
Farewell loveless time,
Farewell seasons of greed,
Farewell days of rage,
Farewell tears to bleed.

A poem by Lancelot

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My muse

Another Quatern

My muse be dull and deathly cold,
All lyrics and finest of rhyme,
Though my thoughts be teeming and bold
And my day be in purest prime,

My brighter moments,all true blooms.
My muse be dull and deathly cold
And a day of blank truly comes
When selfish quatrains do arms fold,

All verse unknown,all tales untold,
All denied by powers that be.
My muse be dull and deathly cold,
My daunting pen,my softest glee,

All care by Apollo withdrawn,
My ample pleasures,my poise of old,
My victorious heyday,all gone.
My muse,be dull and deathly cold!

A poem by Lancelot

An unrhymed Quatern

Responding to a challenge from reowr’s blog

All is truly well that ends well
Like earth and her dearest of souls,
Who shall blossom after the storm
And rejoice,and thrive evermore.

In the light of the aftermath,
All is truly well that ends well.
Now we shall hear the wedding bell
For a lover and the gentle maid

Whose bondage blooms with passing time,
Despite all pains of yesteryear,
All is truly well that ends well.
We shall forget all chores of life

And sing with pride,a song of praise
To the Maker in His great pomp,
It is indeed a joyous day,
All is truly well that ends well.

A poem by Lancelot