The night is serene;
all is quiet,
all is dead;
fate is strung further onto the thread.
Beauty sleeps,
fools awake;
but at what time
do the orphans call their chimes?
The Queen's tower gives
its toll while
stone alleys keep
watch of the evil that seeps.
Yet most of London stays
quiet and rests
'til morn comes rise
in Old, Old England size.
YOU ARE READING
A Little Bit of Happiness, A Little Bit of Joy
PoetryPoems for the soul or whatever you feel like. Most of them are happy because that's nice, right? Anyway, these are just fun little poems about all sorts of things. If you want you can even make a request on a subject or style! Except suicide or self...
