Autumn

Picture from igalleries.com

A poem written after reading Shakespeare’s sonnet

WHEN I do wake up to gentle wind
And hear too low a wild bird sing
So true lies autumn all designed
And the twilight that is changing.
’tis the time of the lowing sun
When the boiling rays no more burn,
’tis the season of the dimming bright
When sweet melons and apples delight.
A sweet time, a shade of days gone
A soft prelude to winter’s dawn.

Lancelot

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At Heaven’s Gate



O dear, dear Grace, Light of all lights,
Where is happiness on my brow
As I stand here choking with fright?

O dear, dear Grace, Light of all lights,
Why am I so silent and low
When I stand before You a blight?

O dear, dear Grace, Light of all lights,
Why are You so uncharmed and slow
To give me a regal invite?

O dear, dear Grace, Light of all lights,
Why do I stain Your lovely glow,
Your Godliness, the rest and might?

Lancelot

In Paradise



The Shepherd whose love
Is steadfast as His holy Master’s,
A legion of masses
Who did best walk the path to life,
The cuddles and the rest
Upon wondrous greens,
And all the trees
That give endless fruits.
A day that knows no nightfall,
The joy of melodizing souls,
The merry voices
Of piping peers,
The pinnacle of sweet harvest,
The delight of highest measure,
A year of eternal summertime!

Lancelot