(an ode to William Shakespeare)
To read the lines of he who has stirred hearts
In generations gone and which remain
In regions far abroad and nearby parts
Whose Muse upon the stage holds light domain;
Amazes each: the mind, the eye, the ear.
A trail to take true care to tread upon,
And stepping blind, 'tis strange we do not steer
Beyond the path, the Poet's pre-scrib'd song
To search, perhaps, for sights we cannot see
Through times' obscured, dim and distant lens.
I would we'd let our lips determin'd be
To taste ambrosia issued from his pens.
But then, perhaps, we fear our ignorance
Would transplant mystr'ies seed and grow offence.
© anthony baldwin
art of tony baldwin - a book of poetry and art