Raven Black

         The Poets Lament

Late in the night I dreamt awake,
and in that dream, I saw a lake,
out of which stepped a lady fair   
with water hyacinths in her hair.   

Her hair was raven black,
her eyes were deepest blue;
then she smiled and said: 
“I am yours if to yourself be true”.

To the realms of posey she took me
and lead me down an enchanted way,
where rhymes flowed into my mind,
Of subjects sad while others were gay.

Thus, she became the inspiration to me,
by enabling my writing to be free from
any cant or dissonance, and what was
the fashion for poetry; until lackaday!

To my dismay I’d thrown her gift away,
by not attending to our appointments,
indulging instead in easy distractions
masquerading as worldly attractions.

Now late each night I dream asleep,
still hoping for the rendezvous to keep,
but my inspiration is no longer there,
back to her lake has stepped my lady fair.

© D G Moody 2026