Poem:

I sense blithe spirits

          of poets of old –

Tennyson, Keats, Longfellow, Scott –

            those that inspire me

Now and then,

             wherever I am,

No matter what.

When I hear the waterfall’s

               rhythmic surge,

The sound of waves

                lapping shores,

I’m taken at once

                 to the world of those

From whose great works

                   my spirit draws.

When I watch the stars

                     twinkling above,

Crowning the sky

                       like jewels bright,

I feel assured

                         some poets of old

Had written so vividly

                           of the night.

When flowers bloom

                            so well in spring,

And leaves display

                             their autumn hue,

I’m sure no poets of old

                               had missed

A sight so wonderful

                                 and so true!

I dedicate this –

                                  to poets gone –

A poem I write

                                   Strictly in rhyme,

While feeling the urge

                                     to walk the path

Left behind

                                       by fleeting time.