Speak Not to Me of Gloried Bygone Days

Sing not to me of gloried bygone days

When all the world was good and gold and right

There was no magic then, nor sounding phrase

 

Words paint the pain of memory with grays

To dull the edges, hide them from our sight

Sing not to me of gloried bygone days

 

Tell me no tales of warriors and braves

Who conquered worlds, who wore the blinding white

There was no magic then, nor sounding phrase

 

Speak instead of humble men of humble ways

Who worked the land and soundly slept the night

Sing not to me of gloried bygone days

 

The conqueror wears the blood of those he slays

His path left desolation, ruin, blight

There was no magic then, no sounding phrase

 

Sing instead of old men and hearths ablaze

of peaceful earth and children’s eyes alight

Sing not to me of gloried bygone days

There was no magic then, no sounding phrase

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About grannysu

storyteller, writer, poet, gardener, countrywoman
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