BrainBulb

What remorse have you come to say?

Leave now or do make a pleasant stay,

Said the old man, as he lay in a taut grass of May.

His heart spoke into a shape of clay.

——

A storied book and crown;

Fairy dream and fairy dust;

Have you come now to but frown?

In ill pursuits to shunt what was just.

——

Is it all, you seek and dare to keep?

Nothing now more than rubble in a heap.

Above the tainted hearts you dined.

Once claimed by force as “mine”,

——

But the man said to his old heart;

A young man’s dream I’ve bought and brought.

I’ve wanted it all in a thought to be.

Is there truly nothing more to see?

——

As time now threads such a spindle I’ve dreaded;

Of what more or less I’ve made unabated,

And a fear furloughed comes to fraught,

So that there is nothing but black rot,

—-

Upon this shape of clay.

Just bury me by olden births of May.

For I have no payment nor pleasance today.

From what remorse you have come to say.