Anthea

A Poem

Anthea

I’ve labored glad since the dawn of time,
And toiled long in the fields of rhyme,
I’ve held in my hand the accentual scythe,
To place posies under virtue’s knife.
Through burrs and thistles I’ve wandered on,
And diligent pruned sweet melody’s lawn,
From the light of day to heat of noon,
I fed the ivy through the poet’s loom.
Then took the emerald disparate strands,
And weaved them with a craftsman’s hand,
To form a cloth for beauty’s sake,
And stay us warm until we wake.

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