Sonnet#1 - Prelude to Freedom.
My loves, my wife our darling newborn child,
For us I wander through the open wood,
And forage in the shadowed forest wild.
To bring all a husband and father could,
To keep his kin well fed, secure and warm.
Scavenging towards freedom spirit strong,
Though oft broken backed, weary muscle torn,
I whistle carefree tunes the whole day long,
With wheelbarrow, flask and trusty bow saw.
I pull, I push, I heave I tote my haul,
So our lights may burn brightly ever more,
So that our flames need never be kept small.
So come cold Winter nights we all can share,
Contented peace warmed in crib and armchair.
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Comments about this poem (Sonnet#1 - Prelude to Freedom. by Anthony Di'anno )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Michael P. McParland
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(1886 - 1967)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
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