The Night is Deep
The night is deep, and darkness
Stands still and silent o'er my soul.
Sleep comes not
To a weary trav'ler,
Tho' the hour
Quickens to morning.
Haste come first,
And let me ride past dawn.
Leaving memories
Of blood and treachery behind.
My father's sleep is sound.
Hands stained with his loyal blood
Bear not the blame,
Tho' the friend turned traitor reigns
Vengence calls
On the path before me.
Dare I take it?
Hands come upon us;
Cries silenced in the night
And coming rain.
No hope for justice in the morrow
And so I flee
If not for my hope,
Then for his.
The night is deep, and alone
My soul rides into the morning.
just another of those wonderful English assignments
(actually, i enjoyed it, but yeah...) we were supposed to
write a poem on macbeth that used the words hands, blood, night, and sleep,
two times each. wierd, yeah, but i think it worked out all right... ~_^