Sonnet To The East

 

My fate does not lie in these British Isles

No crying or words can console me thus

A withering light glows beneath my wiles

Carrying onwards away from us

Hatred diseases the city Western

Virtues are but markings left in the past

Chance to escape and begin again

To swim in freedom, to laugh at long last

Wild dreams and stories of the scorching sun

Blue dreams of innocence not yet jaded

Something calls me to the far green Eastern

In the midst of memories somewhat faded

My soul belongs to these strange thoughts and fancies

Not one in England draped in melancholy