The Clerks

… And you that ache so much to be sublime,And you that feed yourselves with your descent,What comes of all your visions and your fears?Poets and Kings are but the clerks of Time,Tiering the same dull webs of discotent,Clipping the same sad alnage of the years. EA Robinson

Eros Turannos

She fears him, and will always ask What fated her to choose him;She meets in his engaging mask All reasons to refuse him;But what she meets and what she fearsAre less than are the downward years,Drawn slowly to the foamless weirs Of age, were she to lose him. Between a …