Easter in Wicklow, clatters loud, the bells,
Gathers th’ islands back to the continent,
Into compact manors, th’ awash clods swells,
And, reborn, mankind, by blest sacrament.
Godspeed heralds me to th’ open green’ry,
Whence fortune finds me a curious prize,
A limed carnation ‘midst shamrock scenery,
The flower born from tearful virgin eyes.
Lo, a deaf adder, behind her slithers!
Lady, take comfort, present, thine Gawain!
To cleave Bertilak’s head off his withers,
To banish his pompous kind once again!
Come milady, friendlier grounds I pledge,
Methinks worse fiends loiter o’er yonder sedge!
G. E. Hernandez
@WindsPoetic
@RealisticPoetry
https://poeticwinds.wordpress.com