|
|
The Song Of Finis
By Walter De La Mare
AT the edge of All the Ages
A Knight sate on his steed,
His armor red and thin with rust
His soul from sorrow freed;
And he lifted up his visor
From a face of skin and bone,
And his horse turned head and whinnied
As the twain stood there alone.
No bird above that steep of time
Sang of a livelong quest;
No wind breathed,
Rest:
"Lone for an end!" cried Knight to steed,
Loosed an eager rein -
Charged with his challenge into space:
And quiet did quiet remain.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 268 times.
|
|
