The Poet

The poet is the healer, delight, and fragrance of posterity,
By a quill and many parchments, the conquest of humanity.
He fears not the fierce militances of time,
Being a favoured symbol of the divine.
And to the fire and poison filled hearts,
He grants all the floods of felicity,
The orphic balm, the wizardry of syllables.
Come Helen, destroyer of Troy to mere ashes,
Come Athena, invincible lioness,
Deflect the spears that stone hearted beauties fling on my purified heart.
A poet’s empire is never destroyed,
But fills with perfumes all future generations,
Like violet blossoms spreading ambrosias East and West.
Let the falcon flight of my verse soar above all the summits of posterity.