Lost


The sea that sparkles is weary and grey

The mountains that rise are peaked with cracks

The grassland once fertile has lost its may

The building of man its purpose it lacks

So true are the flowers on snow they're strewn

So quaint are the streets that ghosts run yonder

So still is the child old lad' voices croon

So late is autumn that old leaves wonder.


Come! said she, I'll show you the magic, the

Glories and glamours of times yet to pass

The blossoms of springs weaved u'on new fur

The cherry of dances, the gold of class.

Men in gold dresses walk u'on these gold streets

I, mere silver, scout those dark silver lanes

The bonds held captive, the monies in sheets

'Spite all advancement they lose us down drains.


Do not grieve, I say. Someday you shall find

A gold husk, a sea shell of vanity

Perhaps t'is then your verdict may rescind

You may stay in dream, with your sanity.

Or you may wake to see phantoms shatter

Bless these gold men who're gone, you weep and cry

Do not grieve, I'm mere' lost, t'is no matter

For I shall live, and in living I die.