A ballad poem because I wanted to.
Stars strain at their moorings,
Ships that pass in the night,
On vast oceans of darkness,
And a path of pale moonlight.
Above the sleeping meadows,
And the stilly mirror lake,
The tide has washed the swans ashore,
and nothing’s left awake.
Stars that ride at anchor
In the harbour of the sky,
Wait for dewy morning
And the snow white swans to fly.
The morning star has faded,
And the swans flown from the lake,
The ocean that took you away
Rolls on though my heart break.