Unknown

There have passed I lonely days. In the house my sister left. I sat long by her bedside. With the pain only she could heft. Lives whose songs are sweet pass me by. Others, grey-laden, stop a while. Few, in dreams, on soft beds lie. Loving hearts, never to meet. Clear water, that weaves a spell. Those who follow beacons into danger. Of some they speak or do not tell. I cannot be like; I am a shadow. Deep in my mind, eyes that watch. Other words and voices, I can hear. I wonder at deeds both bad and good. Of those that fall in Truth's own lair. I like the fruit, hidden, ripens slow. The harsh mountain, the eagle's home. I like to feel fire, when I am low. Strange wild love, that makes me wake. That walks the path that I shall take.