Sweet history, near infinite your sea,
Wave on wave, relentless to your shore.
Come now and pave a mystery for me.
As humankind has known so long before,
The beauty of the stars is in their age
And I look up, no need to disagree
Upon my lips. Oh no, not anymore.
Sweet history, near infinite your sea.
And I the poor young beggar at your door,
Grown knocking, knocking; grown into a sage
Aware, enamored of the thought of thee,
Pounding on the shore of time, ignored.
Come now, and pave a mystery for me.
For I hear well approaching, like a roar
The day for which all beggars pay their wage;
Surrendered to the timekeeper's decree
And hopeful of a quiet, trojan war--
Sweet history, near infinite your sea.
And I remain your siren, paramour,
Calling out your virtues from the stage.
There is an e'er unfolding light to see
In hist'ry's pages, if you look, explore;
Come now, and pave a mystery for me.
I shall remain a captive devotee
For I have looked to learn from days of yore;
Sweet history, near infinite your sea:
Come now, and pave a mystery for me.
postscript
For day 13 of A Gra Reformata. Kind of a pretty form, but I've decided I really don't like refrains very much.