Author: the bizarrist PM
A poem written in English after reading The King Must Die, Beowulf, and Henry IV. Because they're, you know, epic.Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 93 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 09-17-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2415839
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Whither away, my noble friend,
Upon your ship of gold?
Where fly your sails, your blanched sheets –
Where go your crewmen bold?
To fleetly flit upon the waves,
To spur the fires within,
To journey far, so tossed by sea,
And journey home again.
Oh, my poor one, you do not know,
You will not deign to see:
There will be no return for you
From ever-drifting sea.
So whither winged, my dearest one,
Knowing you shan't return?
Still out upon the darkest deeps;
Your fate you've yet to learn.