Thursday, 30 April 2009

• Currently Eloise at Christmastime By Eloïse see related

  (just before bed after a very busy Wednesday)

  Peace! He rubs his weary orbs, dimming into rest,

  Pleas'd God hath through-ordained the day to offer him His best;

  The night is fastly fleeting, come the Sun he'll cry,

  "My sky still swims surrounding me, another day to fly!"

  *  *  *

  For surely massive mountains call his reaching climb,

  And hills were never overstepped by resting all the time;

  So now he soundly takes the briefest peace he needs,

  The sleep received will aid him run with all the strength of steeds.
  

  • 1:27 AM
  • 11 Views
  • 0 eProps
  • 0 Comments