Poem By Antoine Lavoisier
deep ivy castles of
lore, white stone, and dungeon
roll gaily to my ears,
each ancient voice akin to jeer
that I've no sword, no shield-
no fair young maiden to rescue
from the cold, bewildering tiers!
dark, woodened pastures of
cottage, grey oak, and hearthed homes
drift steadily out to meet me,
their crimson bricks entreating
that I stay and stare a while-
and Time, it wanders silently
like a traveler in the night.
o fatherland! your romance
is deepening, is so swiftly gifting
my carefree, roaming heart! though,
for your princesses i care not
and for your lands i strive not!
bring me that soft-smile, metronome maiden
from the sunset's melodious shore!
for-despite all this,
these ancient pews,
these heart-carved havens-