The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.
Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.
The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying
And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.
(It's an interesting poem, a very good poem. We have four stanzas of six lines each. The last word of the first line rhymes with the first word of the second line; the last word of the second line rhymes with the first word of the fourth line; and the last word of the first line rhymes with the last word in the sixth line. Plus, stresses and feet of the poem are adhered to. And after all of that, the poem communicates with the reader.)
