The Cavalier daily Wednesday, March 28, 1973 | ||
Somewhere,i have left my life behind
As i write these weary lines;
Somehow, i am torn between a rhythm, and a rhyme.
S. L. Lee
As i write these weary lines;
Somehow, i am torn between a rhythm, and a rhyme.
EPITAPH
And now i speak no pain,
No sorrow
For now i know what is truth.
S. L. Lee
No sorrow
For now i know what is truth.
THE SCARECROW
The fields which once displayed
Golden cornstalks to the sun
Are covered with white;
Only the scarecrow remains
Golden cornstalks to the sun
Are covered with white;
Only the scarecrow remains
With his ice-worn checkered shirt
Blowing in the wind
Which carries the straw-stuffing
Across the field...
S. L. Lee
Blowing in the wind
Which carries the straw-stuffing
Across the field...
The Cavalier daily Wednesday, March 28, 1973 | ||