My Story

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  • Childhood

    My Story

    The time is due and much is spent
    To rise early morning by noise of the croaking cock
    And hark! Again, the messenger is sent
    To ring the castle clock
    Fresh day in the children eyes to start destiny
    Struggling as a shelter; on the shoulder of men
    With usurious God of love to fill the lonely
    At first I was a child, a lumber elf

    Has no promoter but dance and sung to myself
    Always found pointing to the problem but could not tell
    Or out of the child’s mouth could not spell
    The aged mother, Madam Helen
    Held me firmly from fallen.
    As I lay on her laps to take my strength from her breast
    I saw the young birds in their mother’s nest

    I was a traveler then upon the moor;
    I saw the hare that raced with joy,
    I heard the distant waters roar
    Or heard them not; as a happy boy
    I thought I was old but not with years
    For my eye to turn red but not with pain
    Nor turn red with tears.

    I was a man no name
    So I was a stranger on this land
    With a gradual way to attain fame
    And a lot of people like the shore
    Now I can touch the skies
    Or not depend on older on my eyes
    A leading from God, a something given

    Yet it befall that, in this lonely place

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    silberg’s Poems (17)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    THE FADED FACE 0
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