To The Dove On Mount
The nobiliary is a conqueror
that triumphed the adventures but horror
of the desert. Mark him! He rides into
the ancients and aims unbowed thereinto.
Allow a free scope for the blessed aim.
Tis but a horseman's to Jerusalem
under the aspect of eternity.
Who would not garland his manege knightly?
Have! The mind shaped after elegance and
aimed so closely in his self-scourge but stand.
The usual style of dressing he is changing.
Should he not go on to find our lodging?
A bright fire gentle in manner burns
his course of life marked with the cross. At once,
but about a leave of absence. Alas!
But the preordained that shall come to pass.
Eyes with a marked contrast of black and white,
who would judge his thin tapering but light
riding whip by feature? Let him answer
the voicing that calls from the Redeemer.
Let him answer the voice that calls along
the way of the Lord's house to live among
again. This demilune in cresent-shape
emblem of Turkey is about agape,
a royal journey for his band of blue
soldiers to the field fallen in a clou
of battle. The cymose grapes of Corinth
cultivated out of the labyrinth,
native to locality, are as well
by the high sower, on the arable vale.
Committed for safe keeping, to a great
height extending, what do we all-roseate
for his journey under monastic vows,
provide? If he is laying for the house,
it is to God. Sing the boatman's song for
the immortalizing freed evermore.
Joining the assembly, may the day of
wrath honour the birth of this blue dove.
O God's hooks! Should the liberal artists fall
behind? Who would dust the archives, all,
O scion of Onyeagolu? If it were
so written, may the ordination here
that thinned your hunger from men's, recognise
your god's letters 'til the day to arise.
Comments about this poem (To The Dove On Mount by Faeo 'Lyre' Clive )
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