Poems from Garrett Thomas
A cord of three strands
Not easily broken
It graciously stands
As a sign, as a token
It maketh me wonder
To this strange arrest
Faith,...
Oh the few that stand
The test of time
Oh the few content
To be sublime
Oh the few rich
That care for the poor
Oh these few that were
But...
Fytte I- Winter’s Pass
The river frozen solid
Beneath, no stirring flow
Icicles hang from the trees
The pond is banked by snow
No sign of...
Whence the rider came about
Looking for a different route
He stopped by a water spout
And rested there to quench his drought
A maiden came...
Those who think of Death
As a man with a scythe
Will meet him like that
At the end of their life
But those who see him
As a friend
Will be...