At first was giv’n a fleeting sign <br />Of winter warned and flower’d thorn; <br />Not of note or of great design, <br />Still it caused the angels to mourn. <br /> <br />The unveiled pathway rambled long <br />Clothed in light; with gold adorned. <br />But echoed faintly its nightly song: <br />For thee I weep, for thee I mourn. <br /> <br />But even still I wandered its length <br />On haunted melody’s wingtips borne, <br />Which bolstered not – but sapped – my strength <br />And spurred the purpose for angels to mourn. <br /> <br />O, wretched liar! Thou withered snake, <br />The hand by which my heart is torn! <br />If thou alone wilt the light forsake, <br />Be condemned thyself to mourn! <br /> <br />Replaced now with a forthright road <br />Of knightly song and flow’rs reborn, <br />I bade farewell my base abode – <br />Ye gods! On white I ride come morn.<br /><br />Adam Fuller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-journey-111/
