Not for this king the brief, the safe, the small
The moment’s glance from which the eye might slide
No, he must seize that eye, command its thrall;
His gestures are writ large. And if he bide
But briefly, it is as a meteor
A searing word across the page of night
They have not found it stinting, heretofor
Who wished upon that star in all its might;
Its glory wanes, their eyes now scan ahead –
One gaze rests yet upon it, all the same,
Her final wish, said as the first was said:
Her gestures, although small, her words – a flame
Of candlelight against a tempest’s blast –
That these find favor with him, to the last.
The West Kingdom History Website was created by and is maintained by Hirsch von Henford (mka Ken Mayer).