Vincent Barrowcliffe

Wake Me Not - Poem by Vincent Barrowcliffe

I sleep, O dearest, I sleep,
Where the dawn has never shone,
I seep, O dearest, I seep,
Where none remain, I remain lone;

I sing a silent song, which echoes,
In the graves of the pardead alive,
I speak and listen to the gloom, that sows,
A death, which shall ever thrive;

I sway with the flowers, oh! Those in mirth,
And darken their bloom, with ashes of life,
And life, the accursed life, ever dearth,
Which grieves over death and begone a strife;

I rest upon dusts, dusts of a forgotten light,
That with never a spark shone to the truth,
Truth that lied and lied in an unseen sight;
The darkness never left, ever and forever ruth;

I burn over pyres of Mother Nature's twilight,
What man destroys and burns, shall never be,
The wise depart, and leave marr'd a realm's sight,
That in merry sorrow, bitter glee, shall ever be;

I redeem the unthought,
As the cries of my death echo,
When I rot, and forever rot,
And I sleep in the deathly plains low;

The time of the Sun dies,
The light shall never be,
And as die all Suns, cries,
The Universe, for departs all glee;

The dead remain afloat in the empt,
And a ripple of the forgotten realm flows,
The dreamed was undreamt,
As death, in glory, sows;

They, who shall cease to remain (along myself) ,
Beg, of their plight, unto Thine,
And they prevail with joyous pain,
In their virtuous sin, they rot and pine;

Our lives play among the dusts of the destine,
That gives not, our part and role,
And those accursed Suns of Fate, shall shine,
A thousand times; as but the smiles and laughs are lost unto a sole;

And they walk along, unto the steps of death,
And, what ought was, never gave,
Theirs and mine, soul creepeth,
And a path, unto eternal death, with our lives, pave;

We do not wish and desire, do not give nor gave,
For, we are those good-samaritans, who sinned,
Shall we, can we, do we or ought we brave,
For those who mourn and rejoice, those unkind and kind?

Amongst the ancience, father and brother,
Of old, and into the dungeons of death deep,
Wake me not, sweet mother,
For I shall rest in my Heavenly Sleep.

Topic(s) of this poem: death

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, August 11, 2013

Poem Edited: Saturday, January 31, 2015

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