Before us stands the orator,
His feet supplanted on
A mound of grass
His outstretched hands
Beckoning us to remain
And hear his words.
Wisdom loving people
That we are - - we tarry.
Alas - - the artificiality
Of his pleas which
Appeared unrestrained before - -
Now prove ineffectual
And mock our sense
Of understanding.
Discontented we turn away
As if the closing of a door
Shuts him from us forever.
© Lawrence Reynolds 1964
(pen name for Richard L. Provencher)
First published 1964
Melody of the Muse
Young Publications, Appalachia, VA
Library of Congress NO 64-24358
