My Chariot of Verse
To hark my muse, unto the mountain climb,
In hope upon, accent a better view;
Atop, behold, the passages of time,
Availed where heaven’s chariot ensue;
With many mares that run the azure air
A sturdy ride, I must so choose with care.
The first a fast and sandy steed was he
Who rode on high, above the opal shores;
We watched a face, by hence it came to be
The start and fall a course for all the wars;
Though hero cast in bronze may glory bring
I am but mortal bound and cannot sing.
Of next, a silver steed of courage strong
Over the greenery and glen we go;
A simple home of stone it standeth long
And families who lost the land they know.
To ride along in tender paradise,
I’ll stay the day, but one it will suffice.
And then, a pretty pony did I take,
Who brought me through, middle of the town
A cast of characters they did partake
To mock that all behold from slave to crown.
Though wit and ridicule they do amuse,
I caution he who mimic overuse.
From pony to a blacken mare I took,
Into the darken alleys did we rush;
Where writing in the gentlest of book,
Would make even the salty sailor blush.
But though the words enchant and do excite,
There is but one, I want to bed at night.
And then I look around upon the room;
The steeds above have left me back at home,
My five-foot chair, with fourteen stripe it loom,
The spot I left it be, each time I roam.
Though journey to and fro I do enjoy,
An English verse, my heart it love employ.