poem
Posted: Fri Nov 30, 2018 9:24 am
.
.
It chanced upon a winter's night,
Safe, sheltered from the weather,
The table was spread for only one
But four men dined together.
There sat the man I meant to be,
Glory spurned and booted,
And close beside him, to the right,
The man I am reputed.
The man I think myself to be
A seat was occupying.
Nearby, the man I really am
Who to hold his own was trying.
Beneath one roof we sat.
None called his fellow brother.
No sign of recognition passed,
for they knew not one another.
Safe, sheltered from the weather,
The table was spread for only one
But four men dined together.
There sat the man I meant to be,
Glory spurned and booted,
And close beside him, to the right,
The man I am reputed.
The man I think myself to be
A seat was occupying.
Nearby, the man I really am
Who to hold his own was trying.
Beneath one roof we sat.
None called his fellow brother.
No sign of recognition passed,
for they knew not one another.
.