A beast of the field moans a few times
When death takes its young.
A beast of the field moans a few times
When death takes its young.
There is the silence of Lincoln,
Thinking of the poverty of his youth.
That's why I made the Elixir of Youth,
Which landed me in the jail at Peoria
Branded a swindler and a crook
By the upright Federal Judge!
And then when I found what you were:
That your soul was small
And your words were false
As your blue-white porcelain teeth,
And your cuffs of celluloid,
I hated the love I had for you,
I hated myself, I hated you
For my wasted soul, and wasted youth.
This is Darrow,
Inadequately scrawled, with his young, old heart,
And his drawl, and his infinite paradox
And his sadness, and kindness,
And his artist sense that drives him to shape his life
To something harmonious, even against the schemes of God.
In age I knew the mountains
But my weary wings could not follow my vision --
Genius is wisdom and youth.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories