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Post by Syri Whiteflame on Jun 7, 2004 3:13:17 GMT -5
"Into My Own"
One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that someday Into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, Or higway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if I still held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew - Only more sure of all I thought was true.
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Post by Syri Whiteflame on Jun 7, 2004 3:13:47 GMT -5
Revelation
We make ourselves a place apart Behind light words that tease and flout, But oh, the agitated heart Till someone find us really out.
'Tis pity if the case require (Or so we say) that in the end We speak the literal to inspire The understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play At hide-and-seek to God afar, So all who hide too well away Must speak and tell us where they are.
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Post by Syri Whiteflame on Jun 7, 2004 3:14:30 GMT -5
The Trial by Exsitence
Even the bravest that are slain shall not dissemble their surprise ON waking to find valor reign, Even as on earth, in paradise; And where they sought without the sword Wide fields of aspholdel fore'er, To find that the utmost reward Of daring should be still to dare.
The light of heaven falls whole and white And is not shattered into dyes, The light for ever is morning light; The hills are verdured pasture-wise; The angel hosts with freshness go, And seek with laughter what to brave;- And binding all is the hushed snow Of the far-distant breaking wave.
And from a cliff-top is proclaimed The gathering of souls for birth, The trial by existence named, The obscuration upon earth. And the slant spirits trooping by In streams and cross- and counter-streams Can but give ear to that sweet cry For its suggestion of what dreams!
And the more loitering are turned To view once more the sacrifice Of those who for some good discerned Will gladly give up paradise. (Page 2) And a white shimmering concourse rolls Toward the throne to witness there The speeding of devoted souls Which God makes his especial care.
And none are taken but who will, Having first heard the life read out That opens earthward, good and ill, Beyond the shadow of a doubt; And very beautifully God limns, And tenderly, life's little dream, But naught extenuates or dims, Setting the thing that is supreme.
Nor is there wanting in the press some spirit to stand simply forth, Heroic in its nakedness, Against the uttermost of earth. The tale of earth's unhonored things Sounds nobler there than 'neath the sun; And the mind whirls and the heart sings, And a shout greets the daring one.
But always God speaks at the end: 'One thought in agony of strife The bravest would have by for friend, The memory that he chose the life; But the pure fate to which you go Admits no memory of choice, Or the woe were not earthly woe To which you give the assenting voice.'
And so the choice must be again, But the last choice is still the same; (Page 3) And the awe passes wonder then, And a hush falls for all acclaim. and God has taken a flower of gold And broken it, and used therefrom The mystic link to bind and hold Spirit to matter till death come.
Tis of the essence of life here, Though we choose greatly, still to lack The lasting memory at all clear, That life has for us on the wrack Nothing but what we somehow chose; Thus are we wholly stirpped of pride In the pain that has but one close, Bearing it crushed and mystified.
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