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16 October 2014
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Carolann North

About to embark on an english degree at University of Ulster, Carolann has been inspired by poetry from a young age. Now at age 21, she hopes to follow in the footsteps of her inspirations; Blake, Yeats and Frost.

Epilogue by Carolann North

Prey, take my ancient breath, my dear,
And heed my words;
Of empty heart and lonely thought I pray.
Beware that sun which shines so bright
But brings cold light;
To freeze all innocence away.

Beware the nightfall鈥檚 silent scream;
The calm before the storm.
Beware the guiding hand of dreams
Which leave you so forlorn.
But most of all; beware my dear,
Of calling time your friend.
It brings with it age and fear,
And six feet in the end.

Enjoy your youth, my cherub child,
Do not look back to think.
For all of us in devils land
Will stop to take a drink.
And when your tree has shed its leaves
And you are standing cold;
Do not turn to time and say,
Oh, when did I grow old?
For time, in all its merry way,
Will turn to you and smile;
And mention all the wrongs you did,
And surely ask you why?

And when this day has come to you
Just turn to time and say,
鈥淓very rose must have its thorns;
And every dog its day.
My petals may be gone now;
But the wounds I made were deep.
My day has come and gone now;
The dog is put to sleep.
But I have made my mark, you see;
On every scarr-ed hand;
I barked, and bit, and roared, and spit;
For I am just a man.鈥

鈥淭he wrongs I made, I cannot right;
But the rights I made, remain.
And if I had another chance,
I鈥檇 do it all again.
For I am pride and I am pain;
I am that all you see.
The day is done; but I have won,
For I am always me.
Though time has turned against me now,
And all must fade to black;
I am proud of who I was,
And I take nothing back.鈥


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