Amidst the deserts of my mind
A city lies where none can find
It save the wise, the free, the pure,
And those whose love can long endure
The test and trial of lasting pain
And yet from hatred's balm refrain.
A city, yes, where none grow old
But pass away to sweeter fold
Of silent rest, a life's repose
Untroubled by the thorny rose
Of life, whose scent is sweeter still
And yet, whose touch must always kill.
A city, some say paradise
Whose guards are waste and winter ice,
The cliffs and crags of untamed land
All uninhabited by man.
Somewhere it stands, unnamed, in Time;
Unseen by eyes save those of rhyme.
In Avalon, so tall and fair
The gentle folk are wont to dare
A look, a kiss, a soft caress
To cleanse away the bitterness
Of death and dying, old age goal
Of every cautious, careful soul.
To love and live and taste life's wine
Before lost youth has killed the vine
And robbed the vintner of its savor;
Loss of youth and loss of favor
In the eyes of withered time,
Is perhaps the saddest rhyme
Of all.
And here no man would dare reproach
For love's own sake the lover's search
For what small comfort they might gain
And mar their souls with moral stain
Or damn their life and damn their deed.
For fear that they might free lives lead.
In fact no man would damn at all. . .
For here all answer freedom's call
And here all love their fellow men.
No one could harm a brother when
To curse someone is to be cursed
With hatred, of all evil worst.