Ice And Gold

In early voices, and in songs, 
I heard the stories told 
Of romance and of mystery 
In days of ice and gold 

And far my mind and heart would roam 
Past mountain and past sea, 
To find in one small, confined room 
A world, a galaxy -- 

We give our toil, yes, our blood, 
We give up our whole ghost, 
But sometimes it's with word and tale 
That we can give the most 

For love is never black-and-white, 
It can't be bought or sold: 
But falls down like the timeless snow 
In days of ice 

And gold

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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