RR poems: Index of first lines


A day is done, a dream is lost


Oh! Grim the day, and black the past.

Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! We cry.

But why tomorrow? Oh foolish hope,

Oh weakling man, thou insolent dust,

Thou child of pain, weak pawn of fate.

How darest thou hope?


Roger Riordan. Leicester 1956

 © Roger Riordan 2004-2019