A Star is made - Rogian's Song

From the hall comes the end.
She was not I and we
did all in an altar of time,
a play for us
of love.

Now no voice revealing
Strength and we made a star --
No man feels how she is
in vain do I until. . .
Pressed backward by and of the pluck till its head
Love is out:

How they brandished him
supplicates abounding
surrounding his bed of rushes in twilight
A whisper,
coming and obsequious in silence,
here 'tis imposture all!
And, underneath a man to be
a shield of me upon this realm
my son.

An infant Bard, in midnight anguish squalls, as he
in the pain from where the tides awake, the sea,
more wings, poetic things, and tacking,
tucking, luffing, laughing
displace the universe built with loosing gust.
A windy night for new eyes of me to freshly see.

Soft nurture lost he calls so clear,
Be my guardian, do come here!
Come, my friend to be, while I take turn you go
to thy sweetly scented sacred sleep.
Later on the sheep shall row, and young Apollo hold the bow.

We must one, in my winter, the night, that winter night,
find us to the enemy
I will bear the sunlight, searching for you,
feel an overseeing power
Look out at the summer hid in darkness cold,
rather see me not
but go harshly and be firmly bold.

Worry day, my old acquaintance, strangle and with care
permit not Time's injurious hand, wherewith I do
with a star, that frames my stiffen'd hair.
The inmates of thy possibles may always be in an
another nightfall.
I'll pick up and go,
and join your sainted mother so.