Dead Men Tell No Tales

They say that dead men tell no tales!
 
Except of barges with red sails  
And sailors mad for nightingales;  

Except of jongleurs stretched at ease  
Beside old highways through the trees;

Except of dying moons that break  
The hearts of lads who lie awake;  

Except of fortresses in shade,  
And heroes crumbled and betrayed.  

But dead men tell no tales, they say!    

Except old tales that burn away  
The stifling tapestries of day:  

Old tales of life, of love and hate,  
Of time and space, and will, and fate.