Poetry Archives

When life was a cobweb of stars for Beauty who came
  In the whisper of leaves or a bird’s lone cry in the glen,
On dawn-lit hills and horizons girdled with flame
  I sought for the triumph that troubles the faces of men.

With death in the terrible flickering gloom of the fight
  I was cruel and fierce with despair; I was naked and bound;
  was stricken: and Beauty returned through the shambles of night;
  In the faces of men she returned; and their triumph I found.