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Haggard's Halls ( XIV )
Paul E. Berube
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Had I not been, so long ago,
A reflection of my soul;
Would that which is be left without,
All hope and self-control?
One dares to fuel lifes foolish ways
To satisfy his thirsts;
Does he not see that shortened space
Betwixt the candle first?
Tis best I face, must not erase
The tortures of my mind;
Why probe and knead, a cause to bleed,
When I've an axe to grind?
Though not insane, perhaps inane,
With pride and standing tall;
I'll raise a toast, salute my ghosts,
Who walk in Haggard's Halls.
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