They'll Be Rock and Roll (2:26)

AN IRISH GARDEN

An Irish Garden

The transparent rains in the temples of your eyes,
Where strophic modes of strains uprise,
Course through my heart, as we walk hand in hand,
Upon a holly-green path in Ireland.

We spoke of Yeats at the roadside bar,
Where he sat and watched the sun descend,
Having beautifully penned
The eloquent scenery, near and far.

A castle of old sits upon a hill,
Above us as we rove in the garden's still.
There are verses to written yet,
Of your fresh, white face,
Scented with mignonette,
Commanding all my love in this shaded place.

(Taken From Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn)

THE CARRIAGE (From Sonnets Of Dusk And Dawn By John Zwerenz)

The Carriage

The mahogany bar sells liquor and ale.
I finish a belt and summon my carriage
To ferry me over the emerald dale,
Homeward to the call of marriage.

The brooks are frozen, and the trees are white.
Canticles play in the gleam of the woodlands.
I dream of my lady's tender hands,
As the coach is tossed in the windy night.

On a precipice we travel as snow begins to fall.
My driver is an old one, and used to it all,
Though the coach sways madly in the bitter cold.

He tells me we should rest on the side
Of the rocky, whited road, for the wheels begin to slide.
But my bride awaits with lips of gold.