‘Tis with valour those souls have… That shine the staves that bards h… Thus their honours written sound t… That onward tolls a timeless knell… As casualties chime a continuous t…

I deny not my childhood yearnings, As oft they call to me, So thus I cast off my lines and m… And set my course to sea. I love the breaking spray upon the…

Alas, to rot within a dungeon, Anguish thus to reap, Chained upon a stony wall Beneath a castle’s keep; Abandoned by thy brethren,

Vaporous forms adrift through cold… Are remnants of passing that in th… And I’ve felt the touch that this… While wandering about in haunted p… Disembodied voices resounding in e…

There’s something creeping in the… A rustling in the pitch, Perhaps it be an angry wraith or e… O’ I dread to know of which! There’s something stirring in the…

Casting dark upon a vacant page Ghosts appear expressing rage And mirrored too in grim despair Troubles loom of which I bear! Tho’ each thought lay blesséd not,

Each night came long and darkened… But this night a storm was blowing And the air came cold upon his hea… For no fire within was glowing! His fate was set; O’ but this he…

O’ farewell, peaceful dreams, As I repose this night to sleep, For conflict has dimmed another da… Beyond the threshold of my keep! Alas, I am harried by uncertainty…

I shan’t e’er embroil my mind with… Or conflict my soul with doubt, When I’ve applied myself whole-he… In result to end in rout; Thus unto my thoughts I dwell dee…

Through dark seasons past I’ve po… And there I’ve seen tomorrow, For life is a continuous turn of t… Tragedy, and sorrow. O’ the tempest winds of time does…

I awake each morn to chase the clo… In the race from nine to five, And firmly placed am I, in this d… Upon my flight to stay alive. I peruse the paper with my morning…

Weary grey has dimmed the day, Woe as thus to come my way And laden lay upon my mind, Its dark distracting sorrows! Grey this day may thus convey

Ghostly lights suffuse the churchy… Old phantoms lurk nigh every stone And the night wind gusts the barre… Above this hallowed loam. There in prayer one silent sentine…

Nary dare I tend to touch upon The tangible ordinary, For I prefer the delightful pull Toward the imaginary. O’ be it to ponder or be it to roa…

He stood high upon the white cliff… Looking out to sea, And as he watched its ebb and flow There upon he wished to be; O, he then saw the seabirds soarin…