Poem

To a poet a thousand years hence...

I who am dead a thousand years,
And wrote this sweet archaic song,
Send you my words for messengers
The way I shall not pass along.

I care not if you bridge the seas,
Or ride secure the cruel sky,
Or build consummate palaces
Of metal or of masonry.

But have you wine and music still,
And statues and a bright-eyed love,
And foolish thoughts of good and ill,
And prayers to them who sit above?

How shall we conquer? Like a wind
That falls at eve our fancies blow,
And old Maeonides the blind
Said it three thousand years ago.

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown,
Student of our sweet English tongue,
Read out my words at night, alone...
I was a poet, I was young.

Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.

**************************

i came across this poem years and years ago, i cant even remember where or when anymore, but it struck me as something magical to my mind, so have kept it, its typed out, you know the old fashioned way! and the bit of paper is worn and torn, i usually put things in keep sake boxes, but this has always found its way out and i come across it from time to time... have a few things that do that! must be my guardian angel wanting me to see things.

glad i have just now to share with you all...

TTFN
Marian
ps. thought i would check out this poem here on the WWW, it was written by James Elroy Flecker, Maeonides is another name for Homer, lots about him on there, and the site i read this in the man said he came across this poem over 40 years ago!