Weep no More





I weep no more for sorrowed, foolish man,

Cease I to wander where the ghosts of mortals haunt,

To view clear springs or shady grove, or sun lit hill,

Where giant lofty crags create great fear, yet cannot daunt.

Smitten with the love of rhymed poetic song,

To wander lonely lanes in dawn’s pale light.

To listen careful to the corncrake’s tuneless song,

To let the passions flow, unfettered with such beauties’ sight.

Wander I through not-soon-forgotten scenes,

O'er bridges with those storm filled noisy brooks beneath.

The airy leafy roof forms above my head, where the curlew screams.

Onward rush the stream of life towards that distant misty heath.

To bring beauty to the mind that no earthly thing can ere destroy,

Beware what earthly men call happiness lest it be harmed by basic man's desire,

The soul’s calm inner sunshine brought about by Nature’s painted joy.

Beware what men call happiness, beware all such except the simple joys that never can expire.

© R.G.Crosbie.


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