What a child is this sprouting
amid a thunder of horses
upon the sea of wisdom.

Growing, come to woo the willing
with bugles of the cherubim brass
exulting through the sides
of near country and far.

A starknell tolls
with the muttering rain
of sad conscience.

The white rose, a flowering branch
embossed on the forehead of him
who has chosen to dwell
among moondew stars, and who knows,
soon we'll bonfire the remains
of the ancient scripts, as we parade
new phases, shining phrases
along the river.

Well done, RCJ.

I recognized the snips from James ReJoyce!

Merlin

Very good, Richard. You've used the JJ snippets deftly, bringing us a poem with stunning imagery.

It seems to beg for a rhyming form, even if it was a simple kind, with end rhymes in quartets. Just sayin'... I like it as it is!

There's another challenge now, take a look and see whether you wish to 'tackle' it... LOL.

Syl