The Weary Dawn

`tis time for war again, and again I 
Find myself too far from my land to see 
Aught of its fair familiarity. 
But, in thought of you, I may sense it aye.


What wondrous glass; to see such beauty through 
Such beauty. Would my world, the cups and all 
Halls and each entry be so monocled 
That this life I have left could be in view. 


Alas, the world will not be transformed, 
And instead this cold and weary dawn harks 
Me a world I would rather not. Embark
We now to give another's world its end...


Love and fondness have I most well for thee, 
`tis all there is to keep this hell from me.