Saturday, October 25, 2014

sonnet: to oblivion

comrades let us rest a while
before we walk our final mile
fortune has withdrawn her smiles
so now we must go out in style

oblivion to us now doth call
in tones both sweet and stern
the water rushes o'er time's falls
beneath a bridge already burned

the way was long, and had its moments
more of minus than of plus
now its ended, and our opponents
can sit and laugh at us

the race is run -
what else could we have done?

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