Long ago
In another land
Where surreal
Was the norm
Lived a knight who had no sword
Rode a unicorn

In battle
The unicorn’s horn
Struck many
In the heart
Soon the two were greatly feared
Mighty men trembled

However
All men meet their match
An arrow
Full of lead
Went through the unicorn’s hoof
Death quickly crept in

The archers
Surrounded the knight
He trembled
Full of tears
His nobility vanished
Painfully dying

May each mouth
That has touched yours
Lead you to mine.
For they have taught you
The art of slow.
The eager lips of young love
Pale compared to
Those seasoned enough
To savor each movement
As if it were their last meal.

I shall tread, another year,
  Ways I walked with Grief,
Past the dry, ungarnered ear
  And the brittle leaf.

I shall stand, a year apart,
  Wondering, and shy,
Thinking, "Here she broke her heart;
Here she pled to die."

I shall hear the pheasants call,
  And the raucous geese;
Down these ways, another Fall,
  I shall walk with Peace.

But the pretty path I trod
  Hand-in-hand with Love--
Underfoot, the nascent sod,
  Brave young boughs above,

And the stripes of ribbon grass
  By the curling way--
I shall never dare to pass
  To my dying day.