A Poet's Lament

While I sing, my passion fears the flame.

Loud complaints...........spot the change.

From the ocean, rise bitter verses unseen.

Young Eliot! I hear them speak. 

Slaves of time! for you, my wit be an ancient fashion.

Hear me, dear, poetry never shows in rapid revelation. 

Your fail productions echo courts standing tall.

Ascend the throne once...only to taste your greater fall.

No Muse assists comrades of the new era.

Thousands of poetical trappings consume the race. 

Only build narrations to shock the rivals.

Supple tenderness disdainfully lost. 

I'll weep over my lengthy misfortunes, whence, the vessel fly.

Sinister stains of darkness, I, shall carry embedded on my grave to die. 

Forget my follies, ruler of Cumbria, to travel I had attempted your monumental pride. 

Keep my dust, bare and desolate, my broken tales neither taught nor delight.