Lord Agner

Worlds will never cease their wish to collide,
And our fear will forever mark that drive;
As Nations constantly wound and divide,
And our Hearts break away from the true live.
In a moment we think our thoughts are clear;
Only to find the morrow begs us to weep,
Our minds wrapped in an unseen cloud of drear,
Only fancies of solace bring us hard sleep.
The Dreams of the Great only dark shadow,
As the whispers of wind wash it away.
And forever cursed to live and winnow,
As Defeat makes it's course to your own day.
Though from your suffer there is no respite,
You build an army without any limit.

An Elizabethan Sonnet ;)