The Shepard's Of Arcadia 4 Poem by Felix Emeka George

It was not long I stared on the space
As a minute silent of the passing glance
In awesome wonder,
Thought in time of yore
Like a ghost of dead Save for keen by looking.
I have seen nothing coming,
A rioting thought
That is only beclouded my mind.

I am still sitting here
In these dark last part;
Through the thick dark seat
In attendance, and there

The shivers running all through me
Is of defiance and not of fear
Certainly, not of horror
The string of death is dead,
The fear of this earth is living
The soul in my minds eyes
And the still-unborn, flowing,
And my superstition a joint weakness
In extreme sharpness of my suffering
Passing away, in inspired of mind
To the heart of loneliness
In steel than strong flint
By far than the heart of
The workers' in the graveyard
My soul from never dissever,
Known how
The times and chances
Have treated and cheated me bad,
Cruelty and mild toiled
I have in all weathered.