That toil of growing up The ignominy of boyhood the distress Of boyhood changing into man The unfinished man and his pain.
That toil of growing up The ignominy of boyhood the distress Of boyhood changing into man The unfinished man and his pain.
I see my life go drifting like a river From change to change I have been many things A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light Upon a sword, a fir tree on a hill, An old slave grinding at a heavy quern, A king sitting upon a chair of gold And all these things were wonderful and great But now I have grown nothing, knowing all. Ah Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow Lay hidden in that small slate-coloured thing.
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories