To Faeo Lyre Clive
O double goer! I cannot bear your weight
but awe at the strength. Higher, demands your
debt than my knowledge of remittance, raw,
knows how it's dared. Be the other self, still great.
You chose none but found me worth your fettle.
Hence, I shall not soft but breast your highness.
You came within, respired my innerness
and sat me, O Noble, on my mettle.
Naught was damned and not life afore, either
but did figured afresh, my form. Shinning
opinion does attend me in your burning
name. Peak invincible, O sightless brother.
Who would not object to the laurels that
accompany me? It is an adventure
embowered; all be it, own self feels sure,
handed away and not known. Would not that?
I spy your height froward flight; although
know not intentions yours but delivered
in stoop, since hope is written in the hard
bounteous stars. Why it is me, I would know.
Mine is mistaken for yours. My family
tree grows disputably and my footfalls
marked for I am no higher to pull thus
heavy. As if you won't mind - - draw knightly,
on more; how be it. O! Stretching this claim
forth when you are not found, what interprets
the progress? I ask inwardly, what wreaths
would there be since you ordered my oriflamme,
neighbours and pleasures away, at your behest.
The most I shall earn, I hope to be shown.
Bear that I have no job else, of my own
but yours. It is risky, all be it, lest
my skin and neck struck thick and stiff at my
end, perish. Confidently do I make
foolish at your love. Count on me awake
to fuel your fire. I shall not stumble nigh
falling lain; but shall all way, pray that you
romp home. As you have chosen, I bid you fare
fair, still; though I know not what hue the sphere
holds for triumph but hope you struggle through.
Comments about this poem (To Faeo Lyre Clive by Faeo 'Lyre' Clive )
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