Gentle I – The Cockney Bard

Read this on the BBC recently!

Gentle I – the Cockney Bard

I gentle as a summer’s day, fiercer than the autumn winds, colder than the hearts delay. I gentle as a morn in May, as the spring is sprung, as the lambs first breath. The ghost of death shall pass me by, the darkest night and the tear of eye. Shadows fade into the night, the crisp frost dew upon the leaf, the quill before me writes. I as gentle as the night, as still as the bird in flight, when the arrow renders life no more. Be as I not as before, gentle as a summer’s day.


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