The Lost Horizon

Where fireflies light the darkling gloam
and ever the brambled magpies cower,
there once did dwell my childhood dream
that ruined prince of a lonely tower.

Dream it was that did wake first
then the Horn and then the Drummer,
cupped its ears ,ironic, whispered
"did that swallow make your summer "?

And I the beadle, eagle-eyed
sentinel of a playful dove,
wistful, wasted , weary ,murmur
"ah ! I could not hold that love.

It wrenched and teary ,skyward flew
and pausing, perched a-top a steeple,
said "goodbye ! lords of sleeping truths ,
I ain't so good at losing people ".