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Dylan
Bragg
Prayer to Jupiter
O jolly, jovial, Oaken-King,
Of Spring and Summer dost thou sing!
And in this mossy acorn grove,
This secret and protected cove,
This ancient and forbidden wood,
Now shed thy winter cloak and hood,
To don thy long and golden gown,
As well thy leafy acorn crown.
O King of all the Elder Gods
Whose silver thrones and golden rods
Are shining yet upon that mount
Whose height no man could ever count,
Come down and take thy earthly form,
Put up thy tools of wind and storm,
With bloss'ming maidens come and lie,
O Oaken-King of wind and sky!
© Dylan Bragg
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For the Listener
O Gentle Listener, take my hand,
And come with me to that fair Land
Which lives forever in your heart,
If only but one tiny part.
Come fly with me on Silver Wings,
Come dance within the Fairy-Rings,
Come delve the depths of Dream and Death,
And face the Dragon's firey breath.
O Listener to my Ancient Tale,
Spread out your one and only sail,
To gather all the wind you can,
And set no course nor make no plan,
But steer your ship into the Sun,
And chase him, make him roar and run,
And frolic in the Fields of Air--
A Lion King with Golden Hair!
Dear Listener, please forgive my Song--
Indeed, 'tis old and dry and long,
Becoming more so day by day,
And in the end 'twill fade away.
Yet this, the only Song I know,
The Song of Earth, doth ever grow;
And if awake you can remain,
Great Wisdom from it shall you gain.
O Listener gentle and pure-hearted,
I shall yet finish what I've started;
And there, within the Hall of Lore,
I'll tell the Tale as told of yore,
From glad beginnings long forgot,
To endings sad and goals long sought;
Each night, grey dusk till golden dawn,
I'll tell the Tale of King and Pawn.
Heed well, Dear Listener, lend your ear!
My warning words are loud and clear:
I see the Storm approaching fast,
I feel the Winter's icy blast,
From fragrant winds I gather news--
A Battle on the Edge now brews;
The messengers of Wrath and War
Are knocking on my cabin door.
O Gentle Listener, here's my Gift:
To set you free, afloat, adrift,
Upon the wide and dark blue Sea,
To sail and search for Destiny,
To lift you up unto the heights
Of Kings and Queens and Noble Knights,
Preparing you for that Great Day,
When all of us shall fly away.
© Dylan Bragg
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Alexander
Far away and over mountains,
Where waterfalls and crystal fountains
Upspring from their undying source,
And gush forth with eternal force,
Beyond all these and further still,
Upon one single, stately hill,
I saw him weep and shed his tears
--The Emperor of tender years.
Away in lands unknown to us,
I saw the Child's heart broken thus;
For where would he his face now shine,
Since all the fields of Corn and Vine
Were withered with his breath of flame,
And all the World knew well his name?
O good, those tears that feed the soil!
--We must replenish what we spoil.
© Dylan Bragg
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