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To Roads of November

If we were as fortunate, dawn And off to Wales in highest PPV Nothing but a good Heaven breaking the sea It was all too tall to remember If I were the cherished one in prison Seemed like needles paid perdition There were only words for the bent of my esteem Early wars alight for no-more day A splintering of a man of one ear Barely Paris for timekeeping November There were shots at Fordham that just now would not disappear And what to our vision was so long, ago But maybe ways of gladly handing- The beginnings of best time And a Sunday morning practice Three whimpers from the door And an upstanding paper man Every thing is now and here Death and fortune, disappear The hurried cattle of Sussex, then no more The yesteryear was still but gone I then all things to believe The prison Brampton bear And a folly to forget And one way to unsay- Never again, It was the war, Against our own And only silent few Who were decked out on day one For the first throw at the sky above- Units of gold And erring forces do not know Why they are unforgiven Sent away and made for carry On a single line of one It was harbouring nine one And a path that none may marry But the land that had it all And my force is due all alone And I lived for profanity and time Promising each new day But of now Harris of gold And I do not stand corrected But by this sad and lonely line For ever weaving forth in time It was an honour to unfold An extra helpful year And it was hers On days of ire And the stop of respect And a warning to males now Promise to keep the golden hour Of the flame that would not keep For the living lawn that stands Even forward for itself- For all of this Earth’s women