They never said why
They thought of me
That way, then and ever
To answer my insults
Hurled at them in disdain,
And distrust of how deep
Into future of distant years
They were, by claims ordained,
To peep with unshaken faith
In what some lines drawn on sand
With the long finger tips could point
To and paint to present a flawless
Flamboyance of fleeting favours,
A fortune in fickleness could find
To forever frown at fiends,
And in fond friendships, to fund
Joys and honeyed pastimes
To keep at bay gloom people
Plotted to put, using powers, all
To drag me away from those
Plans, I dogged to take me
To times of rest when my years
Of work should cease and lead
Me to scintillating charms
Of dreams that beat down
Dark depression of despondent days.
