Songs, Merry and Sad by John Charles McNeill
page 69 of 71 (97%)
page 69 of 71 (97%)
|
By symbol of words or by echo of art.
L'envoi God willed, who never needed speech, "Let all things be:" And, lo, the starry firmament And land and sea And his first thought of life that lives In you and me. His circle of eternity We see in part; Our spirits are his breath, our hearts Beat from his heart; Hence we have played as little gods And called it art. Lacking his power, we shared his dream Of perfect things; Between the tents of hope and sweet Rememberings Have sat in ashes, but our souls Went forth on wings. |
|