Old virtue

by Feb 11, 2004Poetry

She walks alone:
Old virtue,
And remembers what once was,
She listens to the sunset,
And still she wanders on.

So silently now
Each foot fallls,
Treads old paths that lay unseen,
Under naked mallorn,
Woken from her dream.

A blood red hood
Sourrounds her,
Elven maind of old,
A jewel of silver on her breast,
Her crown of tarnish’d gold.

And I, in memory passing,
Remember so her cry
Of only one word
As she lay down to die.


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