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We have magnificent brains, but we use a great deal of our brilliance to keep ourselves stuck and ignorant, to keep ourselves from not shining. We are so afraid of our beauty and radiance and brilliance because it scared the adults around us when we were children.

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The Spirit

When you sleep, i sleep beside you;
But you cannot see me because,
I am the spirit around you.

When you bath, i also do bath around you;
But you cannot see me because,
I am the spirit around you.

When you eat, i am also beside you;
But you cannot see me because,
I am the spirit around you.

I am closer to you than ever and,
I am your close friend like your shadow;
But, i will expose myself to you one day.

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In The Good Old Days (When Times Where Bad)

Wed get up before sun-up to get the work done up
Wed work in the fields till the sun had gone down
Weve stood and weve cried as we have bristly watched
A hailstorm a beatin our crops to the ground
Weve gone to bed hungry many nights in the past
In the good old days when times were bad
Chorus:
No amount of money could buy from me
The memories that I have of then
No amount of money could pay me
To go back and live through it again
Ive seen daddys hands break open and bleed
And Ive seen him work till hes stiff as a board
An Ive seen momma layin in suffer and sickness
In need of a doctor we couldnt afford
Anything at all was more than we had
In the good old days when times were bad
Weve got up before and found ice on the floor
Where the wind would blow snow through the cracks in the wall
And I couldnt enjoy then, havin a boyfriend
I had nothing decent to wear at all
So I long for a love that I never had
In the good old days when times were bad
Repeat chorus
Tag:
In the good old days when times were bad
In the good old days when times were bad

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To Rutherford Birchard Hayes

AT THE DINNER TO THE PRESIDENT,
BOSTON, JUNE 26, 1877

How to address him? awkward, it is true
Call him 'Great Father,' as the Red Men do?
Borrow some title? this is not the place
That christens men Your Highness and Your Grace;
We tried such names as these awhile, you know,
But left them off a century ago.

His Majesty? We've had enough of that
Besides, that needs a crown; he wears a hat.
What if, to make the nicer ears content,
We say His Honesty, the President?

Sir, we believed you honest, truthful, brave,
When to your hands their precious trust we gave,
And we have found you better than we knew,
Braver, and not less honest, not less true!
So every heart has opened, every hand
Tingles with welcome, and through all the land
All voices greet you in one broad acclaim,
Healer of strife! Has earth a nobler name?

What phrases mean you do not need to learn;
We must be civil, and they serve our turn
'Your most obedient humble' means--means what?
Something the well-bred signer just is not.

Yet there are tokens, sir, you must believe;
There is one language never can deceive
The lover knew it when the maiden smiled;
The mother knows it when she clasps her child;
Voices may falter, trembling lips turn pale,
Words grope and stumble; this will tell their tale
Shorn of all rhetoric, bare of all pretence,
But radiant, warm, with Nature's eloquence.
Look in our eyes! Your welcome waits you there,--
North, South, East, West, from all and everywhere!

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There are now grandmothers and grandfathers coming to see us because they are of that age, they grew up in the '50s and '60s and they bring their sons and their daughters to hear the songs they heard when they were young.

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Avondale

If you're gonna rip my heart out
Could you use a knife that's dull
And rust in color
Once I die
There will be no way that you can cover
That scar. It's hard, I know.
And if I get a little blood on, you
Finally the world will know you're guilty
Know you're wrong
Of taking everything you're gotten from me
No heart. It's hard, I know.
Mighty King of Avondale
I just can't let this go
Real life ain't no fairytale
I just thought you should know
And when you're finished with the surgery, I
Really hope that you will turn to me, and
Tell me all about the fun you had
When you were cuttin up
You were cuttin up
Living like a fairytale
The Mighty King of Avondale
It all went to his head, this royalty
I stuck a knife into his back
Inventiveness is what I lack
He's always hanging up on loyalty

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Avondale

If you're gonna rip my heart out
Could you use a knife that's dull
And rust in color
Once I die
There will be no way that you can cover
That scar. It's hard, I know.
And if I get a little blood on, you
Finally the world will know you're guilty
Know you're wrong
Of taking everything you're gotten from me
No heart. It's hard, I know.
Mighty King of Avondale
I just can't let this go
Real life ain't no fairytale
I just thought you should know
And when you're finished with the surgery, I
Really hope that you will turn to me, and
Tell me all about the fun you had
When you were cuttin up
You were cuttin up
Living like a fairytale
The Mighty King of Avondale
It all went to his head, this royalty
I stuck a knife into his back
Inventiveness is what I lack
He's always hanging up on loyalty

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Reminiscences Of My Students' Exemplary Behaviour

A few students got up at 5 A.M. to study
and went to bed after 11 P.M.completing Home Work.
They would be absent to Science Practicals
and recorded in their notebooks the readings of others.

When they were taken on tours to other States,
with bare hands they would enter the bus
and with bags of stolen goods they returned.
They would blow kisses at girls and receive in plenty.

Before they played games in tournaments,
they would take hot drinks along with their teachers.
Some boys of the suppressed classes would let loose
vulgar jokes on girls of other classes and sparked fire.

My students wouldn't give seats to the old in buses.
'Why shouldn't these dying ones wait and catch an empty bus? '
they would say but let the fairones to take their seats soon.
They would identify the bluffing teachers and be his friends.

The girls couldn't be advised against meeting of boy friends.
They would chop off a bunch of hair themselves
and put the blame on the strict teachers
and brought the media to torn them into pieces.

I don't hesitate to reminisce some of their progress in life.
Most of them had purchased jobs like drivers, conductors,
the serving nurses, electricians, and constables and so on.
A few had climbed to the top due to reservations or donations.

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You remain precious to me

I remember the gloss
that you put on your lips
and how soft and hot
they were against mine

and how you press kisses
on letters and cards
and I remember your brown green eyes
wherein I am lost

and the Estè Lauder perfume
that makes you smell like a flower
and how wonderful pretty
you look every day

and I remember how you loose
your bikini top in a wave
and the boy watching you big eyed
while I bring a towel to you.

and the haunted hill that we visited
and your car that went
in the wrong direction

and how we travelled
along the coast past Houtbay
when you were mine
and how sparkling you looked at me

and I know what it is to love
and I wish that we could still be together
and be able to look at you like then
and that we could embrace each other
to eternity
as you remain precious to me.

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I Have The Mind And Mood Of Poetry

I HAVE THE MIND AND MOOD OF POETRY

I have the mind and mood of poetry,
But I have no poem-
And all I can do is wait
And hear the words come
And wonder whether their strength
Is in my own inner quiet
Which loves the words
And loves the poem
And loves the light from my window
And the flowers on the balcony
And all I see and feel and breathe now-
Because Love makes the universe resound
Even when there is only a small poor poem to add to it.

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet 39 - Because thou hast the power and own'st the grace

XXXIX

Because thou hast the power and own'st the grace
To look through and behind this mask of me
(Against which years have beat thus blanchingly
With their rains), and behold my soul's true face,
The dim and weary witness of life's race,—
Because thou hast the faith and love to see,
Through that same soul's distracting lethargy,
The patient angel waiting for a place
In the new Heavens,—because nor sin nor woe,
Nor God's infliction, nor death's neighborhood,
Nor all which others viewing, turn to go,
Nor all which makes me tired of all, self-viewed,—
Nothing repels thee, . . . Dearest, teach me so
To pour out gratitude, as thou dost, good!

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Patrick White

At The Crossroads Of Martyrs And Reptiles

At the crossroads of martyrs and reptiles,
annihilation's easy enough. It's carrying on
that's hard. All my emotions are feathered
like crows or osprey, hermit thrush, Canada geese,
and the occasional humming bird but that doesn't mean
they're perched in an aviary, or forgotten
what it was like when they had scales.

I've softened as I've aged. Molars and mountains
worn down like a planet in the tides of time and the stars.
I used to embroider my emotions in blood
on pillowcases full of razorblades that had
as many phases as the moon has thorns,
broken stained-glass windows, the shards
of shattered mirrors. I lived like stolen
radioactive material in a black market
with no flower-stalls, though I was raised
in a city of gardens with hanging baskets
dripping from the lamp posts outside the pawn shop,
with three full moons of leprous white globes
cloned incommensurately down the main street.

I buried my emotions at sea on the run
like depth charges deep within me
where the sharks and submarines cruise
for targets of opportunity. Boom.
But on the surface all you'd hear
in polite company, was this muffled wump
like a boxer connecting a right cross meteorically
with an entire species. And I'd tuck myself in at night
under the chained blankets they use
like straitjackets to discipline dynamite.
I'd dream like a junkyard dog with its head
on its paws in between thieves of one day
winning my colours like a moonrise in a wolfpack.

Ask me what the nights were all about back then
and I'd immediately say black. Intense,
voracious black. Black matter, black holes,
black energy, black dwarfs, black diamonds
on the coal road they took like the wrong path in life.
I'd look at the traffic lights, the colour of lifesavers,
and I'd see three eclipses, two for the way
I looked at things, and one indelibly patched
over my third eye like cataracts on the windows
of a black out in a blitz. Not brutal, not cruel.
But it wasn't often anyone looked at the ore
and saw a jewel. I was a chip off the old block
as my mother used to say referring to my father,
and I'd go away for days at a time feeling
like Charlie Manson in a nuclear winter
for carnivorous losers like Smilodon
in the last ice age who would never know
what it was like to be petted under the chin and purr.

I may have been evil, but I was smart.
And is that man good, who likes you,
and tells you to get away from him to keep
the infection from spreading? Any merit in that?
If the plague rat jumps ship before docking in Genoa?
Who knows why things change the way they do?
Maybe everybody's got a quota of mutations
to go through before the world shapes up like a pear,
the snake sheds its last skin, evolution
gives you a break on a long, lonely highway at night
and the prehensile grip of your thumb gets you a lift
from a stranger with cigarettes the rest of the way.

Even as a cold furnace of a kid full of the ashes
of the tree forts I built from stolen lumber
like eyries where I could shriek on the wind
like an eagle with an arrow in its wing
and nobody could hear me but the wind and the leaves
and at night when they came out like call girls, the stars.
That did the trick, I think. When they weren't
mean and stupid, they were wise as underground cells
of a compassion as tangible as honey on a burn.
I loved to hear the stars roaring like dragons in the abyss
without anyone catching fire for heresy
and then watch them fixing chandeliers of fireflies
to the lobes of their ears in front of the light bulbs
marqueeing the fragrant make-up mirrors
that told them no lies, as if it were raining light out.

You could burn, you could burn, you could burn,
you could burn like a clear blue white star,
pure acetylene hotter than the indigo petals
of the wild irises with their tongues hanging out
like Sirius A in the Big Dog because of the heat.
You could know them all by name and still,
and this is the best part of any art, have no power
over them, even when you knew the secret name
of their god, and kept it to yourself out of gratitude.
Even when they were grasped by the throat like swans
by a john as sometimes happened, it only
went to prove how unattainable everything is
you think you've got a handle on, as they'd
slip through your fingers like water and clouds
and seductive perfumes with the names of romantic novels
billowing like mustard gas in no man's land.

As vivid as the lilac dot of Mercury dancing in the sunset
of a modest telescope that can see light
at the end of the tunnel of death, like a fun ride
in a circus of horrors, I remember looking
through the plumes of smoke from the pulp mill
through a glass darkly on my mother's back porch
just to get a glimpse of Wednesday's planet,
exhilarated to see what Copernicus hadn't,
this tiny seed pearl that never turned its face
away from the sun, intermittently revealed
through a parting of the ways between me
and the black ghosts of an ongoing exorcism.

I began to understand the dark wisdom of shining
isn't so much a matter of what you put out
as what you take in when the light turns you around
like stars and callgirls and says, here, in this black mirror,
take a good look at yourself. What constellation is that?
Black dwarfs on a starmap, or a cabal of fireflies
cauterizing the lightning roots of your myth of origins
like bad wiring on the electric chair of Queen Cassiopeia
shorting out the fuses of the old asterisms
with the creative possibilities of less terminal visions?

Even today, after fifty years of poetry,
I can't look at the Pleiades without feeling
I'm in the boudoir of the sibyls trying to make
a decent man of the boy in me they adopted
as one of their own and taught me how to burn
the darkness out on the pyre of a sky burial
devoted to nightbirds like a dragon that emptied
its furnace of a heart out like the skull cup of an urn
or a coal scuttle pouring its ashes out like diamonds
of Zen costume jewellery from the mended tea pot
of Aquarius on the cold side of the moon
to warm things up a bit like a compassionate heretic
with a cosmic emergency exit at either equinox.
That's when my tears began to thaw like glaciers
on a long inter-reflecting firewalk of waterclocks.

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Yesterday, To-day, and For Ever: Book IV. - The Creation of Angels and of Men

O tears, ye rivulets that flow profuse
Forth from the fountains of perennial love,
Love, sympathy, and sorrow, those pure springs
Welling in secret up from lower depths
Than couch beneath the everlasting hills:
Ye showers that from the cloud of mercy fall
In drops of tender grief, - you I invoke,
For in your gentleness there lies a spell
Mightier than arms or bolted chains of iron.
When floating by the reedy banks of Nile
A babe of more than human beauty wept,
Were not the innocent dews upon its cheeks
A link in God's great counsels? Who knows not
The loves of David and young Jonathan,
When in unwitting rivalry of hearts
The son of Jesse won a nobler wreath
Than garlands pluck'd in war and dipp'd in blood?
And haply she, who wash'd her Saviour's feet
With the soft silent rain of penitence,
And wiped them with her tangled tresses, gave
A costlier sacrifice than Solomon,
What time he slew myriads of sheep and kine,
And pour'd upon the brazen altar forth
Rivers of fragrant oil. In Peter's woe,
Bitterly weeping in the darken'd street,
Love veils his fall. The traitor shed no tear.
But Magdalene's gushing grief is fresh
In memory of us all, as when it drench'd
The cold stone of the sepulchre. Paul wept,
And by the droppings of his heart subdued
Strong men by all his massive arguments
Unvanquish'd. And the loved Evangelist
Wept, though in heaven, that none in heaven were found
Worthy to loose the Apocalyptic seals.
No holy tear is lost. None idly sinks
As water in the barren sand: for God,
Let David witness, puts his children's tears
Into His cruse and writes them in His book; -
David, that sweetest lyrist, not the less
Sweet that his plaintive pleading tones ofttimes
Are tremulous with grief. For he and all
God's nightingales have ever learn'd to sing,
Pressing their bosom on some secret thorn.
In the world's morning it was thus: and, since
The evening shadows fell athwart mankind,
Thus hath it always been. Blind and bereft,
The minstrel of an Eden lost explored
Things all invisible to mortal eyes.
And he, who touch'd with a true poet's hand
The harp of prophecy, himself had learn'd
Its music in the school of mourners. But
Beyond all other sorrow stands enshrined
The imperishable record - Jesus Wept.
He wept beside the grave of Lazarus;
He wept lamenting lost Jerusalem;
He wept with agonizing groans beneath
The olives of Gethsemane. O tears,
For ever sacred, since in human grief
The Man of sorrows mingled healing drops
With the great ocean tides of human woe;
You I invoke to modulate my words
And chasten my ambition, while I search,
And by your aid with no unmoisten'd eye,
The early archives of the birth of time.

Yes, there are tears in heaven. Love ever breathes
Compassion; and compassion without tears
Would lack its truest utterance: saints weep
And angels: only there no bitterness
Troubles the crystal spring. And when I felt,
More solaced than surprised, my guardian's tears
Falling upon my hand, my bosom yearn'd
Towards him with a nearer brotherhood;
And, terrible as seem'd his beauty once,
His terrors were less mighty than his tears.
His heart was as my heart. He was in grief,
No feigned sorrow. And instinctively -
Love's instinct to console the one beloved -
I answer'd, 'Oriel, let it grieve thee not
Thus to have told me of thy dark sojourn
In yonder world of death. I thought before
Of thee as dwelling ever in the light,
And knowing only joy; but now I see
We both have suffer'd; sinless thou, and I
Ransom'd from sin; for others only thou,
I for myself and others; - but yet links
Betwixt us of a tender sympathy
Eternity will rivet, not unloose.
And now, albeit, had I nursed of wrath,
Thy words had quench'd the latest spark, yet thou,
While quenching hope, hast hopelessness illumed.
Far visions throng my eye and fill my soul
Of evil overcome by final good,
And death itself absorb'd in victory.
But first I long to listen from thy lips
The story of creation's birth, whene'er
In the unclouded morning-tide of heaven
Thou and thy holy peers beheld the light.'

And Oriel took my hand in his once more,
And from the summit of that cliff we turn'd,
And, with the ease of spirits, descending sought
A lower platform, whence the mighty gulf
Betwixt that shadowy land of death and ours
Was hidden, but afar pre-eminent
Over the realms of Paradise. But soon
A train of silvern mists and airy clouds,
Only less limpid than the light itself,
Began to creep from every vale, where late
Invisible they couch'd by fount and rill,
Around us o'er the nearer hills, and hung
Their lucid veils across the crystal sky,
Not always, but by turns drawn and withdrawn
In grateful interchange, so that awhile
Rocks, mountains, valleys, woods, and glittering lakes,
And those uncounted distances of blue
Were mantled with their flowing draperies,
And then awhile in radiant outline lay; -
Haply less lovely when unclothed than clothed
With those transparent half-transparent robes,
But loveliest in alternate sheen and shade.
I knew the token and was still: and there
Upon a ledge of rock recline, we gazed
Our fill of more than Eden's freshness, when
The mists of God water'd the virgin earth,
And gazing drank the music of its calm,
Silent ourselves for gladness. But at last,
As if recalling his far-travell'd thoughts,
Not without deeper mellowness of tone,
Oriel resumed his narrative and spake:

'Yes, saidst thou truly, in the world of spirits,
As in the early Paradise of man,
Creation had its morning without clouds;
When first the bare illimitable void
Throughout its everlasting silences
Heard whispers of God's voice and trembled. Then,
Passing from measureless eternity,
In which the Highest dwelt Triune Alone,
To measurable ages, Time began.
And then, emerging out of nothingness,
At God's behest commanding Let Them Be,
The rude raw elements of nature Were:
Viewless and without form at first. But soon
God will'd, and breathed His will; and lo, a sea
Of subtle and elastic ether flow'd,
Immense, imponderable, luminous,
Which, while revealing other things, remains
Itself invisible, impalpable,
Pervading space. Thus Uncreated Light
Created in the twinkling of an eye
A tabernacle worthy of Himself,
And saw that it was good, and dwelt therein.
Then, moulded by the Word's almighty hand,
And by the Spirit of life inform'd, the heaven
With all its orbits and the heaven of heavens
Rose like a vision. There the throne supreme,
Refulgent as if built of solid light,
Where He, whom all the heavens cannot contain,
Reveals His glory' incomprehensible,
Was set upon the awful mount of God,
The Heavenly Zion: over it above
The empyrean of the universe;
And near it, or beneath it as it seem'd,
That mystic chariot, paved with love, instinct
Thereafter with the holy cherubim;
And round about it four and twenty thrones,
Vacant as yet - not long. God, who is Spirit,
Bade spirits exist, and they existed. Forms
Of light, in infinite varieties,
Though all partaking of that human type
Which afterward the Son of God assumed
(Angelical and human forms, thou seest,
Are not so far diverse as mortals think),
Awoke in legions arm'd, or one by one
Successively appear'd. Succession there,
In numbers passing thy arithmetic,
Might be more rapid than my words, and yet
Exhaust the flight of ages. There is space
For ages in the boundless past. But each
Came from the hand of God distinct, the fruit
Of His eternal counsels, the design
Of His omniscient love, His workmanship;
Each seraph, no angelic parentage
Betwixt him and the Great Artificer,
Born of the Spirit, and by the Word create.

'Of these were three foremost, Lucifer,
Michael, and Gabriel: Lucifer, the first,
Conspicuous as the star of morning shone,
And held his lordly primacy supreme;
Though scarcely' inferior seem'd Michael the prince,
Or Gabriel, God's swift winged messenger.
And after these were holy Raphael;
Uriel, the son of light; Barakiel,
Impersonation of beatitude;
Great Ramiel, and Raamiel, mercy's child;
Dumah; and Lailah, and Yorekemo,
And Suriel, blessed Suriel, who abides
Mostly beside the footstool of God's throne,
(As Mary sate one time at Jesus' feet,)
His chosen inalienable heritage.
Nor these alone, but myriad sanctities,
Thrones, virtues, principalities, and powers,
Over whose names and high estates of bliss
I must not linger now, crown'd hierarchs;
And numbers without number under them
In order ranged, - some girt with flaming swords.
And others bearing golden harps, though all
Heaven's choristers are militant at will,
And all its martial ranks are priestly choirs.
And, even as in yonder Paradise
Thou sawest the multitudes of ransom'd babes
And children gather'd home of tenderest years,
So with the presbytery of angels, those
Who will appear to thee as infant spirits
Or stripling cherubs, cluster round our steps,
Each individual cherub born of God,
Clouds of innumerable drops composed,
Pure emanations of delight and love.

'And yet, though only one of presbyters
There reckon'd by ten thousands, when I woke
To consciousness I found myself alone,
So vast are heaven's felicitous abodes,
As Adam found in Eden. Not a sound
Greeted mine ear, except the tuneful flow
Of waters rippling past a tree of life,
Beneath whose shade on fragrant moss and flowers
Dreaming I lay. Realities and dreams
Were then confused as yonder clouds and rocks.
But soon my Maker, the Eternal Word,
Softening His glory, came to me, in form
Not wholly' unlike my own: for He, who walk'd
A man on earth among His fellow-men,
Is wont, self-humbled, to reveal Himself
An Angel among angels. And He said, -
His words are vivid in my heart this hour
As from His sacred lips at first they fell, -
'Child of the light, let Oriel be thy name;
Whom I have made an image of Myself,
That in the age of ages I may shower
My love upon thee, and from thee receive
Responsive love. I, unto whom thou owest
Thy being, thy beauty, and immortal bliss,
I claim thy free spontaneous fealty.
Such it is thine to render or refuse.
It may be in the veil'd futurity,
Veil'd for thy good, another voice than Mine,
Though Mine resembling, will solicit thee,
When least suspicious of aught ill, to seek
Apart from Me thy bliss. Then let these words
Foreclose the path of danger. Then beware.
Obedience is thy very life, and death
Of disobedience the supreme award.
Forewarn'd, forearm'd resist. Obey and live.
But only in My love abide, and heaven
(So call the beautiful world around thee spread)
Shall be thy home for ever, and shall yield
Thee choicest fruits of immortality:
And thou shalt drink of every spring of joy,
And with the lapse of endless ages grow
In knowledge of My Father and Myself,
Ever more loving, ever more beloved.'

'Speaking, He gazed on me, and gazing seal'd
Me with the impress of His countenance,
(Brother, I read the same upon thy brow,)
Until such close affinity of being
Enchain'd me, that the beauty' of holiness
Appear'd unutterably necessary,
And by its very nature part of me.
I loved Him for His love: and from that hour
My life began to circle round His life,
As planets round the sun, - His will my law,
His mysteries of counsel my research,
And His approving smile my rich reward.

'Then whispering, 'Follow Me,' He led me forth
By paths celestial through celestial scenes
(Of which the Paradise beneath our feet,
Though but the outer precincts of His courts,
Is pledge), each prospect lovelier than the last,
Until before my raptured eye there rose
The Heavenly Zion.

'Terribly sublime
It rose. The mountains at its base, albeit
Loftier than lonely Ararat, appear'd
But footsteps to a monarch's throne. The top
Was often lost in clouds - clouds all impregn'd
With light and girded with a rainbow arch
Of opal and of emerald. For there,
Not as on Sinai with thick flashing flames,
But veiling His essential majesty
In robes of glory woven by Himself,
He dwells whose dwelling is the universe
Of all things, and whose full-orb'd countenance
The Son alone sustains. But at His will
(So was it now) the clouds withdrawn disclosed
That portion of His glory, which might best
Fill all His saints with joy past utterance.
There were the cherubim instinct with eyes;
And there the crowned elders on their thrones,
Encircling with a belt of starry light
The everlasting throne of God; and round,
Wave after wave, myriads of flaming ones
From mightiest potentates and mid degrees
Unto the least of angelic choirs.
Myself, nor of the first nor of the last
I saw; but mingling with them was received
By some with tender condescending love,
By others with the grateful homage due
To their superior. Envy was unknown
In that society. But through their ranks
Delightful and delighting whispers ran,
'Another brother is arrived to share
And multiply our gladness without end.'
Meanwhile, as I was answering love with love,
My Guide was not, and in that countless throng
I felt alone, till clustering round my steps,
With loud Hosannas and exuberant joy,
They led me to the footstool of the throne,
And there upon His Father's right He sate,
Without whom heaven had been no heaven to me,
Effulgent Image of the Invisible,
Co-equal co-eternal God of God.

'That day was one of thousands not unlike
Of holy convocation, when the saints
(This was our earliest name, God's holy ones)
From diverse fields of service far and near,
What time the archangel's trumpet rang through heaven,
Flock'd to the height of Zion - archetypes
Of Salem's festivals in after years.
And ever, as these high assemblies met,
New counsels were disclosed of love Divine,
New revelations of our Father's face,
New proofs of His creative handiwork,
Presentments at the throne of new-born spirits,
Wakening new raptures and new praise in us
The elder born. No discord then in heaven.

'So pass'd continuous ages; till at last,
The cycles of millennial days complete,
Mark'd by sidereal orbits, seven times seven,
By circuits inexpressible to man
Revolving, a Sabbatic jubilee
Dawn'd on creation. Usher'd in with songs
And blowing of melodious trumps, and voice
Of countless harpers harping on their harps,
That morning, long foretold in prophecy
(Heaven has, as earth, its scrolls prophetic, sketch'd
In word or symbol by the Prescient Spirit),
Broke in unclouded glory. Hitherto
No evil had appear'd to cast its shade
Over the splendors of perpetual light,
Nor then appear'd, though to the Omniscient Eye,
Which only reads the mysteries of thought
And can detect the blossom in the bulb,
All was not pure which pure and perfect seem'd.
But we presaged no tempest. We had lived,
Save for the warning each at birth received,
As children live in blissful ignorance
Of future griefs: nor even Michael guess'd,
So hath he often told me, what that day
Disclosed of war and final victory.

'Such was the childhood of angelic life.
Such might not, could not always be And when,
Ranged in innumerable phalanxes,
We stood or knelt around the sapphire throne,
The Word, the Angel of God's Presence, rose
From the right hand of glory, where He sate
Enshrined, imbosom'd in the light of light,
And gazing round with majesty Divine, -
Complacent rest in us His finish'd work,
His perfected creation, not unmix'd,
With irrepressible concern of love, -
Thus spake in accents audible to all:

''Children of light, My children, whom My hand
Hath made, and into whom My quickening Spirit
Hath breathed an immortality of life,
My Father's pleasure is fulfill'd, nor now
Of His predestinated hosts remains
One seraph uncreated. It is done.
Thrones, virtues, principalities, and powers,
Not equal, but dependent each on each,
O'er thousands and ten thousands president:
No link is wanting in the golden chain.
None lacks his fellow, none his bosom friends,
No bosom friends fit society,
And no society its sphere assign'd
In the great firmament of morning stars.
The brotherhood of angels is complete.
And now, My labor finish'd, I declare
Jehovah's irreversible decree,
With whom from Our eternal Yesterday,
Before creation's subtlest film appear'd,
I dwelt in light immutably the same,
Which saith to Me, 'Thou art My Only Son,
From all eternity alone Beloved,
Alone begotten: Thee I now ordain
Lord of To-day, the great To-day of Time,
And Heir of all things in the world to come.
Who serve the Son, they too the Father serve;
And Thee, My Son, contemning, Me contemn.
My majesty is Thine: Thy word is Mine.
And now, in pledge of this My sovereign will,
Before heaven's peers on this high jubilee
I pour upon Thee without measure forth
The unction of My Everlasting Spirit,
And crown Thee with the crown of endless joy.''

'So spake the Son; and, as He spake, a cloud
Of fragrance, such as heaven had never known,
Rested upon His Head, and soon distill'd
In odors inexpressibly sublimed
Dewdrops of golden balm, which flow'd adown
His garments to their lowest skirts, and fill'd
The vast of heaven with new ambrosial life.
And for a while, it seem'd a little while,
But joy soon fails in measurement of time,
We knelt before His footstool, none except,
And from the fountain-head of blessing drank
Beatitude past utterance. But then,
Rising once more, the crown'd Messiah spake:

''My children, ye have heard the high decree
Of Him, whose word is settled in the heavens,
Irrevocable; and your eyes have seen
The symbol of His pleasure, that I rule
Supreme for ever o'er His faithful hosts,
Or faithless enemies, if such arise:
And rise they will. Already I behold
The giant toils of pride enveloping
The hearts of many: questionings of good,
Not evil in themselves, but which, sustained
And parley'd with apart from Me, will lead
To evil: thoughts of license not indulged,
Nor yet recoil'd from: and defect of power,
Inseparable from your finite being,
Soliciting so urgently your will
(Free, therefore not infallible) to range
Through other possibilities of things
Than those large realms conceded to your ken,
That if ye yield, and ye cannot but yield
Without My mighty aid betimes implored.
From their disastrous wedlock will be born
That fertile monster, Sin. Oh, yet be wise!
My children, ere it be too late, be warn'd!
The pathway of obedience and of life
Is one and narrow and of steep ascent,
But leads to limitless felicity.
Not so the tracks of disobedience stretch
On all sides, open, downward, to the Deep
Which underlies the kingdom of My love.
Good, evil; life and death: here is your choice.
From this great trial of your fealty,
This shadow of all limited free will,
It is not Mine, albeit Omnipotent,
To save you. Ye yourselves must choose to live.
But only supplicate My ready aid,
And My Good Spirit within you will repel
Temptation from the threshold of your heart
Unscathed, or if conversed with heretofore
Will soon disperse the transitory film,
And fortify your soul with new resolve.'

'He spake, and from the ranks a seraph stepp'd,
One of heaven's brightest sanctities esteem'd,
Nought heeding underneath the eye of God
Ten thousand times ten thousand eyes of those
Who gazed in marvel, Penuel his name,
We knew not: only this we knew; then first
Tears fell upon that floor of crystal gold -
Not long - a smile of reconcilement chased
Impending clouds, and that archangel's brow
Shone with the calm response of perfect love.

'Sole penitent he knelt, - if penitence
Be the due name for evil, not in deed,
But only in surmise. And for a space
Unwonted silence reign'd in heaven, until
The Son of God a third time rose and spake:

''Angels, from conflict I have said no power
Avails to save you: here Omnipotence,
Which made and guards from force your freeborn will,
And never can deny itself, seems weak,
Seems only, - hidden in profounder depths.
But rather than temptation were diffused
Through boundless space and ages without end,
I have defined and circumscribed the strife
In narrowest limits both of place and time.
Ye know the planet, by yourselves call'd Earth,
Which in alternate tempest and repose
Has roll'd for ages round its central sun,
And often have ye wonder'd what might be
My secret counsel as regards that globe,
The scene of such perplex'd vicissitudes,
In turn the birthplace and the tomb of life,
Life slowly' unfolding from its lowest forms.
Now wrapt in swathing-bands of thickest clouds
Bred of volcanic fires, eruptions fierce
And seething oceans, on its path it rolls
In darkness, waiting for its lord and heir.
Hear, then, My word: this is the destined field,
Whereon both good and evil, self-impell'd,
Shall manifest the utmost each can do
To overwhelm its great antagonist.
There will I shower the riches of My grace
First to prevent, and, if prevention fail,
To conquer sin - eternal victory.
And there Mine enemies will wreak their worst:
Their worst will prove unequal in that war
To conquer My unconquerable love.
But why, ye thrones and potentates of heaven,
Say why should any amongst you, why should one
Attempt the suicidal strife? What more
Could have been done I have not done for you?
Have I not made you excellent in power,
Swift as the winds and subtle as the light,
Perfect and God-like in intelligence?
What more is possible? But one thing more,
And I have kept back nothing I can do
If yet I may anticipate your fall.
Such glory have I pour'd upon your form
And made you thus in likeness of Myself,
That from your peerless excellence there springs
Temptation, lest the distance infinite
Betwixt the creature and the Increate
Be hidden from your eyes. For who of spirits,
First born or last, has seen his birth, or knows
The secrets of his own nativity?
Nor were ye with Me, when My Father will'd,
Come, then, with Me, your Maker, and behold
The making of a world. Nor this alone:
But I, working before your eyes, will take
Of earth's material dust, and mould its clay
Into My image, and imbreathe therein
The breath of life, and by My Spirit Divine
Impanting mind, choice, conscience, reason, love,
Will form a being, who in power and light,
May seem a little lower than yourselves
(Yourselves whose very glory tempts to pride),
But capable of loftiest destinies.
This being shall be Man. Made of the dust,
And thus allied to all material worlds,
Born of the Spirit, and thus allied to God,
He during his probation's term shall walk
His mother earth, unfledged to range the sky,
But, if found faithful, shall at length ascend
The highest heavens and share My home and yours.
Nor shall his race, like angels, be defined
In numbers, but expansive without end
Shall propogate itself by diverse sex,
And in its countless generations form
An image of Divine infinitude.
As younger, ye their elder brethren stand:
As feebler, ye their ministers. Nor deem
That thus your glory shall be less, but more;
For glory' and love inseparably grow.
Only, ye firstborn sons of heaven, be true,
True to yourselves and true to Me, your Lord;
For as mankind must have a pledge proposed
(And without pledge the trial were the same)
Of their obedience, so mankind themselves
Are pledge and proof of yours. Only be true;
And the pure crystal river of My love
Widening shall flow with unimpeded course,
And water the whole universe with life.'

'So spake Messiah; and His words awoke
Deep searchings,
Is it I?
in countless hearts,
Hearts pure from sin and strong in self-distrust:
Nor holy fear alone, but strenuous prayer
For strength and wisdom and effectual aid
In the stern war foretold. And heaven that hour
New worship and unparallel'd beheld,
Self-humbled cherubim and seraphim,
And prostrate principalities and thrones,
And flaming legions, who bended knees
Besought their fealty might never fail,
Never so great as when they lowliest seem'd.
Would all had pray'd! But prayer to some appear'd
A sign of weakness unconceived: to some
Confession of an unsuspected pride:
And haply some rising ambition moved
To strive against the Spirit who strove with all
In mercy, forcing none, persuading most.
Yes, most yielded submiss. And soon from prayer
And all the firmament of Zion rang
With new Hosannas unto Him who saw
The gathering storm and warn'd us ere it broke.
New thoughts of high and generous courage stirr'd
In every loyal breast, and new resolves
To do and suffer all things for our Lord.
On which great themes conversing, friend with friend,
Or solitary with the King Himself,
That memorable Sabbath pass'd, a day,
Though one day there is a thousand years,
Fraught with eternal destinies to all.

'Now dawn'd another morning-tide in heaven,
The morning of another age, and lo,
Forth from the height of Zion, where He sate
Throned in His glory inaccessible,
The Son of God, robed in a radiant cloud,
And circled by His angel hosts, came down,
Descending from that pure crystalline sphere
Into the starry firmament. Not then
For the first time or second I beheld
Those marvels of His handiwork, those lamps
Suspended in His temple's azure dome,
And kindled by the Great High Priest Himself;
For through them I had often wing'd my flight.
But never saw I till that hour such blaze
Of glory: whether now the liquid sky
Did homage to its present Lord, or He
Our eyes anointed with peculiar power:
For to the farthest wall of heaven, where light
Trends on the outer gloom, with ease we scann'd
The maze of constellations: central suns
Attended by their planets ministrant,
These by their moons attended; groups of worlds;
Garlands of stars, like sapphires loosely strung;
Festoons of golden orbs, nor golden all,
Some pearls, and rubies some, some emerald green,
And others shedding hyacinthine light
Far over the empurpled sky: but all
Moving with such smooth harmony, though mute,
Around some secret centre pendulous,
That in their very silence music breathed,
And in their motions none could choose but rest.

'Through these with gently undulating course
Messiah and His armies pass'd, until
They reach'd the confines of thy native orb,
The battle-field of Good and Evil, Earth.

'Wrapt in impervious mists, which ever steam'd
Up from its boiling oceans, without form
And void, it roll'd around the sun, which cast
Strange lurid lights on the revolving mass,
But pierced not to the solid globe beneath,
Such vast eruption of internal fires.
Had mingled sea and land. This not the first
Convulsion which that fatal orb had known,
The while through immemorial ages God,
In patience of His own eternity,
Laid deep its firm foundations. When He spake
In the beginning, and His word stood fast,
An incandescent mass, molten and crude,
Arose from the primordial elements,
With gaseous vapors circumfused, and roll'd
Along its fiery orbit: till in lapse
Of time an ever thickening hardening crust
(So I have heard) upon its lava waves
Gather'd condense: a globe of granite rock,
Bleak, barren, utterly devoid of life,
Mantled on all sides with its swaddling-bands
Of seas and clouds: impenetrably dark,
Until the fiat of the Omnipotent
Went forth. And, slowly dawning from the East,
A cold gray twilight cast a pallid gleam
Over those vaporous floods, and days and nights,
All sunless days, all moonless starless nights,
For ages journey'd towards the western heavens: -
Unbroken circuits, till the central fires
Brake forth anew, emitting sulphurous heat.
And then at God's command a wide expanse
Sever'd the waters of those shoreless floods
From billowy clouds above; - an upper sea
Of waters o'er that limpid firmament
Rolling for cycles undefined, the while
God's leisure tarried. Then again He will'd,
And lo, the bursting subterranean fires
Thrust from below vast continents of land
With deeper hollows yawning wide betwixt
Capacious, into which the troubled tides
Pour'd with impetuous rage, and fretting broke,
Returning with their ceaseless ebb and flow,
On many a sandy beach and shingly shore.
But soon, wherever the dank atmosphere
Kiss'd with its warm and sultry breath the soil,
Innumerable ferns and mosses clothed
The marshy plains, and endless forests waved,
Pine-trees and palms on every rising slope,
Gigantic reeds by every oozy stream,
Rank and luxuriant under cloudy skies,
Fed by the streaming vapors, race on race
Fattening, as generations throve and sank.
Their work was done; and at the Almighty's word
Earth shudder'd with convulsive throes again,
And hid their gather'd riches in her folds
For after use. But now a brighter light
Flushes the East: the winds are all abroad:
The cloud-drifts scud across the sky; and lo,
Emerging like a bridegroom from his couch,
The lordly sun looks forth, and heaven and earth
Rejoice before him: till his bashful queen,
When the night shadows creep across the world,
Half peering through a veil of silver mists,
Discloses the pale beauty of her brow,
Attended by a glittering retinue
Of stars. Again long ages glided by,
While Earth throughout her farthest climes imbibed
The influence of heaven.

'Not yet the end.
For not for lifeless rocks, or pure expanse
Of the pellucid firmament, or growth
Of ferns or flowers or forests, or the smile
Of sun or moon far shining through the heavens
Was that fair globe created; but for life,
A destined nursery of life, the home,
When death is vanquish'd, of immortal life.
But there is no precipitance with God,
Nor are His ways as ours. And living things,
When His next mandate from on high was given,
Innumerous, but unintelligent,
Swarm'd from the seas and lakes and torrent floods,
Reptiles and lizards, and enormous bids
Which first with oaring wing assay'd the sky:
Vast tribes that for successive ages there
Appear'd and disappear'd. They had no king:
And mute creation mourn'd its want; until
Destruction wrapt that world of vanity.
But from its wreck emerging, mammoth beasts
Peopled the plains, and fill'd the lonely woods.
But they too had no king, no lord, no head;
And Earth was not for them. So when their term
In God's great counsels was fulfill'd, once more
Earth to its centre shook, and what were seas
Unsounded were of half their waters drain'd,
And what were wildernesses ocean beds;
And mountain ranges, from beneath upheaved,
Clave with their granite peaks primeval plains,
And rose sublime into the water-floods,
Floods overflow'd themselves with seas of mist,
Which swathed in darkness all terrestrial things,
Once more unfurnish'd, empty, void, and vast.

'Such and so formless was thy native earth,
Brother, what time our heavenly hosts arrived
Upon its outmost firmament; nor found
A spot whereon angelic foot might rest,
Though some with facile wing from pole to pole
Swift as the lightning flew, and others traced
From East to West the equidistant belt.
Such universal chaos reign'd without;
Within, the embryo of a world.

'For now
Messiah, riding on the heavens serene,
Sent forth His Omnipresent Spirit to brood
Over the troubled deep, and spake aloud,
'Let there be light;' and straightway at His Word.
The work of ages into hours compress'd,
Light pierced that canopy of surging clouds,
And shot its penetrative influence through
Their masses undispersed, until the waves
Couching beneath them felt its vital power.
And the Creator saw the light was good:
Thus evening now and morning were one day.

'The morrow came; and without interlude
Of labor, 'Let there be a firmament,'
God said, 'amid the waters to divide
The nether oceans from the upper seas
Of watery mists and clouds.' And so it was.
Immediate an elastic atmosphere
Circled the globe, source inexhaustible
Of vital breath for every thing that breathes:
And even and morning were a second day.

'But now again God spake, and said, 'Let all
The waters under heaven assembling flow
Together, and the solid land appear.'
And it was so. And thus were types prepared
For generations yet unborn of things
Invisible: that airy firmament,
Symbolic of the heaven and heaven of heavens;
The earth a theatre, where life with death
Should wage incessant warfare militant;
And those deep oceans, emblems of a depth
Profounder still, - the under-world of spirits.
But now before our eyes delighted broke
A sudden verdure over hill and dale,
Grasses and herbs and trees of every sort,
Each leaflet by an Architect Divine
Design'd and finish'd: proof, if proof be sought,
Of goodness in all climes present at once,
Untiring, unexhausted, infinite:
Thus evening was and morning a third day.

'And then again Messiah spoke, and lo,
The clouds empurpled, flush'd, incarnadined,
Melted in fairy wreaths before the sun,
Who climbing the meridian steep of heaven,
Shone with a monarch's glory, till he dipp'd
His footstep in the ruddy western waves,
And with the streaming of his golden hair
Startled the twilight. But as evening drew
Her placid veil o'er all things, the pale moon
Right opposite ascending from the East,
By troops of virgin stars accompanied,
Arcturus and the sweet-voiced Pleiades,
Lordly Orion, and great Mazzaroth,
Footing with dainty step the milky way,
Assumed her ebon throne, empress of night.

'But now the fourth day closed. And at God's word
The waters teem'd with life, with life the air;
Mostly new types of living things, though some
From past creations, buried deep beneath
Seas or the strata of incumbent soils,
Borrow'd their form. Innumerable tribes
Of fishes, from the huge Leviathan
Roaming alone the solitary depths
To myriad minnows in their sunny creeks,
The ocean pathways swam. Nor less the birds,
Some of entrancing plumage, some of notes
More trancing still, awoke the sleeping woods
To gayety and music. Others perch'd
Upon the beetling cliffs, or walk'd the shore,
Or dived or floated on the waves at will,
Or skimm'd with ling wing o'er their dashing foam,
Free of three elements, earth, water, air.
And, as the fifth day to the sixth gave place,
We gazed in eager expectation what
Might crown our Great Creator's work.

'But first
All living creatures of the earth appear'd:
Insects that crept or flew as liked them best,
In hosts uncounted as the dews that hung
Upon the herbs their food; and white flocks browsed,
Herds grazed, and generous horses paw'd the ground:
And fawns and leopards and young antelopes
Gamboll'd together. Every moment seem'd
Fruitful of some new marvel, new delight,
Until at last the Great Artificer
Paused in His mighty labors. Noon had pass'd,
But many hours must yet elapse ere night:
And thus had God, rehearsing in brief space
His former acts of vast omnipotence,
In less than six days ere we stood aloof
From that tumultuous mass of moving gloom,
Out of the wrecks of past creations built
A world before our eyes. All was prepared:
This glorious mansion only craved its heir,
This shrine of God its worshipper and priest.

'Nor long His purpose in suspense. For soon
Descending from the firmamental heavens,
Where He had wrought and whence His mandates given,
Upon a mountain's summit which o'erlook'd
The fairest and most fruitful scene on earth,
Eden's delicious garden, in full view
Of us His ministering hosts, He took
Some handfuls of the dust and moulded it
Within His plastic hands, until it grew
Into an image like His own, like ours,
Of perfect symmetry, divinely fair,
But lifeless, till He stoop'd and breathed therein
The breath of life, and by His Spirit infused
A spirit endow'd with immortality.
And we, viewless ourselves in air, saw then
The first tryst of a creature with his God:
We read his features when surprise and awe
Pass'd into adoration, into trust;
And heard his first low whisperings of love, -
Heard, and remember'd how it was with us.

'But now, lowly in heart, Messiah took
Mankind's first father by the hand, and led
His footsteps from that solitary hill
Down to the Paradise below, well named
A paradise, for never earth has worn
Such close similitude to heaven as there.
The breezes laded with a thousand sweets,
Not luscious but invigorating, breathed
Ambrosial odors. Roses of all scents
Embower'd the walks; and flowers of every hue
Checker'd the green sward with mosaic. Trees
Hung with ripe clustering fruit, or blossoming
With promise, on all sides solicited
Refreshment and repose. Perpetual springs
Flow'd, feeding with their countless rivulets
Eden's majestic river. By its banks
The birds warbled in concert; and the beasts
Roam'd harmless and unharm'd from dell to dell,
Or leap'd for glee, or slept beneath the shade,
The kid and lion nestling side by side.

'These, summon'd by their Maker, as they pass'd
Before his feet, the ancestor of men
Significantly named: such insight God
Had given him into nature: but for him
Of all these creatures was no helpmeet found.
And solitude had soon its shadow cast
Over his birthday's joy: which to prevent
God drench'd his eyes with sleep, and then and there,
Still in our aspect, from his very side
Took a warm rib and fashion'd it anew,
As lately' He fashion'd the obedient clay,
Till one like man, but softer gentler far
(The first of reasonable female sex,
For spirits, thou knowest, are not thus create)
He made, and brought her, blushing as the sky
Then blush'd with kisses of the evening sun,
Veil'd in her naked innocence alone,
To Adam. Naked too he stood, but joy
Not shame suffused his glowing cheek and hers,
The while their gracious Maker join'd their hands
In wedlock, and their hearts in nuptial love;
Nor left them, till by many a flowery path
Through orange groves and cedarn alleys winding
At length He brought them to a fountain's brink, -
The fountain of that river which went forth
Through Eden, watering its countless flowers
With tributary rivulets, or mists
Exhaled at nightfall. There, on either side,
A fruit-tree grew, shading the limpid spring,
The tree of knowledge and the tree of life.

'Hither when they arrived, the Son of God,
With mingled majesty and tenderness
Their steps arresting, bade them look around
That garden of surpassing beauty, graced
With every fruit that earth could rear, and rich
With every gift that Heaven could give to man,
And told them all was theirs, all freely theirs,
For contemplation, for fruition theirs, -
Theirs and their seed's for ever. But one pledge
He claim'd of their allegiance and their love,
And, upon peril of His curse pronounced,
The awful curse of death, forbade them taste
The tree of knowledge. Then smiling He turn'd,
And told them of the other tree of life,
Of which divinest fruit, if faithful proved,
They by His pleasure should partake at length,
And without death translated, made like Him,
In heaven and earth, for earth should be as heaven,
Reap the full bliss of everlasting life.

'But now the evening sang her vesper song,
And lit her silver lamps; and vanishing
From view of thy first parents, not from ours,
Messiah rose into the heavens serene,
And, gazing on His fair and finish'd work
Outstretch'd before Him, saw that it was good,
And bless'd it, and in blessing sanctified;
Nor sooner ceased, than all the marshall'd host
Of angels pour'd their rapture forth in songs
Of Hallelujah and melodious praise.
No jar was heard. Then sang the morning stars
Together, and the first-born sons of God
Shouted for joy, a shout whose echoes yet
Ring in my ear for jubilant delight.
And He with gracious smile received our praise,
Lingering enamour'd o'er His new-made world,
The latest counsel of His love, the while
Your earth her earliest holiest Sabbath kept,
Gladden'd with new seraphic symphonies,
And the first echoes of the human voice.

'Too quickly' it pass'd. And then, ere we retraced
Our several paths of service and of rest,
Messiah call'd us round His feet once more,
And said to all, 'Angels, behold your charge,
Your pledge of fealty, your test of faith,
Thine, Lucifer, of heavenly princes first,
Earth is thy province, of all provinces
Henceforth the one that shares My first regards.
This is thy birthright, which, except thyself,
None can revoke: this firmamental heaven
Thy throne ordain'd; and yonder orb thy realm.
Thee, My vicegerent, thee I constitute
God of the world and guardian of mankind.
Only let this thy lofty service link
Thee closer to thy Lord; apart from Whom
This post will prove thy pinnacle of pride,
Whence falling thou wilt fall to the lowest hell;
But under Me thy seat of endless joy:
If faithless found, thy everlasting shame;
If faithful, this thy infinite renown.
For, lowly' as seems the earth compared with heaven,
We, the Triune, have sworn that through mankind
The angels and celestial potentates
Shall all receive their full beatitude;
Yea, that Myself, the Uncreated Word,
Join'd to mankind, shall of mankind elect
My Church, My chosen Bride, to share with Me
My glory and My throne and endless love.
I am the Bridegroom, and the Bride is Mine:
But yours, ye angel choirs, may be the joy
Pure and unselfish of the Bridegroom's friend.
Only be humble: ministry is might,
And loving servitude is sceptral rule.
Ye are My servants, and in serving men
Ye honor Me, and I will honor you.'

'So spake the Son, and forthwith rose sublime,
His pathway heralded with choral hymns,
Till on the heavenly Zion He regain'd
His Father's bosom and His Father's throne.'

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and why did He choose the manger, and Mary and Joseph?

and why did God chose
the manger for the seat
of his birth and Mary his
physical mother and
Joseph the carpenter?

he chose the place of the
poor, the innocent face of
the unsophisticated woman,
the callous hands of the
simple carpenter in the
small town of nowhere,

he chose simplicity and
poverty, he never chose
us, our place, our time,

because he may not have
liked it at all. Too rich,
too arrogant, too shiny,
and so dirty.

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Sir Henry Wotton, and Serjeant Hoskins Riding On The Way

Ho. Noble, lovely, vertuous Creature,
Purposely so fram'd by Nature
To enthral your servants wits.

Wo. Time must now unite our hearts:
Not for any more deserts,
But because (me thinks) it fits.

Ho. Dearest treasure of my thought,
And yet wert thou to be bought
With my life, thou wert not dear.

Wo. Secret comfort of my mind,
Doubt no longer to be kind,
But be so and so appear.

Ho. Give me love for love again,
Let our loves be clear and plain,
Heaven is fairest, when 'tis clearest.

Wo. Lest in clouds, and in differring,
We resemble Seamen erring,
Farthest off, when we are nearest.

Ho. Thus with numbers interchanged,
Wotton's Muse and mine have ranged,
Verse and Journey both are spent.

Wo. And if Hoskins chance to say,
That we well have spent the day,
I, for my part, am content.

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Farewell To The Poets And Poetesses Of Nature

Farewell to the poets and poetesses of Nature
Their beautiful rhymes are a gift of the heart
In literature they will always be remembered
For their promotion of Nature in which they played a huge part.

In their verses they captured some of the beauty of the Natural World
And their legacy in words is still with us today
In their poems one can visualize the wild birds singing
And in the warm Summer breeze get the sweet scent of hay.

Not all of them World famed or publicly acclaimed
Though a literary gem or two they created with us does remain
They played their own part in the promotion of Nature
And their likes perhaps we may not see again.

I love those old wordsmiths and their musical verses
They sung of the beauty around them they see
They had music in them their words so well written
With Nature they lived in complete harmony.

Farewell to the poets and poetesses of Nature
Their beautiful words do not have in them a use by date
To them we feel grateful for promoting Nature
And we thank them for the beauty that they did create.

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The Kali Jali And The Panji Story

Near the “Kali Jali”
The brown water flow
In the Rainy day
Where laid the “getek” were made from bamboo tree
brought the people went from side to another side the river
Bring bycycle, handbag, went to the town
Or the Chinese shop
While I like play on its side the river
Brought by my sister
Who lives in my grandma and grandpa
My big family from father line
Where our ancient family in the backyard
With same place with districthead called Sawunggalig
I like to play there,
When I went home from my holiday
My father were angry because my foot injury
Couldn’t care myself
When I were became of adult people
I know, so many government official
went to that place brought the incense and fire its
and the smoke around up to sky spread promise and hope
still strong and have accessed in their power
To day I don’t know where they run away
or stay behind the incense smoke
in the wall of company and bigest shop
in my town
build the traditional relgious school
hide in the bankriverside,
and the incense smoke,
flow around,
and flow the capital from another country
to every company, shop and charity,
to the mosque, with coruption money.
While I could think only
In the bankriverside, The Lord of Sunan, and ask why Kali Jali
Flow the brown water and not transparent anymore

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With Money And A Mouth Peice Of The Wise

Walking in paradise and not even knowing.
You think your the only one.
A theory tried and proven wrong.
Their is so many of us.
Small insignificant.
A minuscule being.
You simply don't matter.
It's alway the bigger and the baddest.
Jump just a little higher.
To reach the ledge and climb up.
To only a different level.
Being controlled.
By those who have cheated.
They are smarter and you have been defeated.
A conquest to somewhere.
But where are you?
A never moving frozen stone.
Solid and alone.
Taking on it all.
Weathering the storm.
Listening to the thunder roar.
Enduring the slamming of the doors.
The gates to heaven are closed to you.
Not till you have seen it all.
The third man rides a horse in with his cane pretending to be of the wise.
His old appearance with thinning gray hair is just another disguise.
For he's here to create compromise with the black knight.
Like the forbidden apple he passes the fruit.
Mmm, it taste good and all we want is more.
He makes his promise.
Then points to the dark shadow.
And soon we are engulfed in the darkness.
Not of the promise land.
One of the damned.
As close as you are going to get to hell on earth.
With the whispers of those who have been cursed.
Echoing from this place.
We are all swallowing with disgrace.
We are not the symptom but the problem.
Falling for it everytime.
With lies we believe.
It is only what we tell you.
With intelligence bought and pay for.
The ultimate form of mind control.

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(Father Poems) ... And The Sugar Moms Have Also Cashed In On The Ever Increasing Demand For Sex With Children

I'm walking side by side
In the streets with my wife
She's gorgeous she's the greatest
Thing tha's ever happened to my wife
We walk side by side
It's marvelous Sunday afternoon
We hold hands never in the history
Of this town was a happier couple seen
I'm thinking of buying my wife a Ferrari
She must be given a palace this summer
I must thank her for all the love
She has given me and then
It happens and my dreams
Are shattered and I must
Go back to the drawing board again
And re-examine the reason for our marriage
And I must sit down and ask myself why
The woman(She was the daughter of a principal)
I wanted to marry woke up and set herself on fire
A day after I told her that I was no longer
Going to marry her
And I must ask the marriage counsellors
Why there was that painful look of
Betrayal on her unhappy to death face
And I must not forget to interrogate my
Mother she owes me an explanation and she
Must tell me why she raged and forbid me
Marry the departed lady of my choice
And threatened to excommunicate me form
The family if I did not marry the woman I
Did not want to marry of her arranged marriage
And I must watch what's going on right in front
Of my disbelieving eyes 'cause the look of terror
Has crept into my wife's eyes and boy she's like
A cornered tigress and she's trapped and the boy
Who is the same age as my son is hurling
Insults and words of abuse at her
And he accuses her and he says it's
Payback time and he demands to go to bed
With her and he threatens her with litigation
And he says she must go to bed with him as agreed
And my wife flees into unknowns of the world
And out of our marriage
And I stare at her fleeing figure
And I kneel down and I pray for
The souls of the young boys who're
Their toy boys and the sugar moms who have
Also cashed in on the ever increasing demand
For sex with children and really they're doing
Well for themselves their husbands are proud of them
The score is equal they have learned well the lesson
From their own husband's philandering ways

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Hopes And Fears

Scars not seen but they are there none the less
The scars are on my heart
The questions in my mind
I wonder if he knows how bad he hurt me
I wonder if he even cares
I wonder if these girls are his
I wonder if they will ever forgive me
I'm so young and my baby girls will grow up in a time of war
I wonder if they will start another draft if this goes on much longer
I'm not a fighter
I don't want to have to fight in a war that isn't mine
I don't want to die in a war of politics
I don't want have to choose between my girls and my country
My girls win every time
I don't want to have to flee my country and never be able to come back
I don't want to use my girls as an excuse as why I don't have any money
I don't want to be on welfare
I don't want to have to be dependent on a man
I don't want to have to depend on any one but myself
I don't want this life
I never have
I wonder if I was destined from the start to lead this life of heartache
I don't want my girls to have a life like I did
But they are already on that road
I have deprived them of a father by not waiting
By not protecting myself
I have started to lead them on a broken road of pain and heartache
I never wanted that for my kids
I have no one but myself to blame
I get that part by now
I wonder if this is all a punishment from god
I wonder if god even cares
I wonder if god abandoned me
It sure feels that way
I hope my babies don't feel the pain that I do
I hope I never have to leave them and deprive them of myself
Their mother
I hope they never feel abandoned like I do
I hope they will never feel unwanted
I hope they don't turn out like me
I hope their lives aren't filled with chaos
Swirling whirling skies of disappointment regret and pain
I hope they never lose their rosy view of the world
I hope they don't have to grow up too fast
I hope they have strength courage and determination
I hope they never back down
I hope they stand up for what they believe in
I hope they can make their lives better than I've made mine

Copyright © Johanna M Stone 2011

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Hopes And Fears

Scars not seen but they are there none the less
The scars are on my heart
The questions in my mind
I wonder if he knows how bad he hurt me
I wonder if he even cares
I wonder if these girls are his
I wonder if they will ever forgive me
I'm so young and my baby girls will grow up in a time of war
I wonder if they will start another draft if this goes on much longer
I'm not a fighter
I don’t want to have to fight in a war that isn’t mine
I don’t want to die in a war of politics
I don’t want have to choose between my girls and my country
My girls win every time
I don’t want to have to flee my country and never be able to come back
I don’t want to use my girls as an excuse as why I don’t have any money
I don’t want to be on welfare
I don’t want to have to be dependent on a man
I don’t want to have to depend on any one but myself
I don’t want this life
I never have
I wonder if I was destined from the start to lead this life of heartache
I don’t want my girls to have a life like I did
But they are already on that road
I have deprived them of a father by not waiting
By not protecting myself
I have started to lead them on a broken road of pain and heartache
I never wanted that for my kids
I have no one but myself to blame
I get that part by now
I wonder if this is all a punishment from god
I wonder if god even cares
I wonder if god abandoned me
It sure feels that way
I hope my babies don't feel the pain that I do
I hope I never have to leave them and deprive them of myself
Their mother
I hope they never feel abandoned like I do
I hope they will never feel unwanted
I hope they don’t turn out like me
I hope their lives aren't filled with chaos
Swirling whirling skies of disappointment regret and pain
I hope they never lose their rosy view of the world
I hope they don’t have to grow up too fast
I hope they have strength courage and determination
I hope they never back down
I hope they stand up for what they believe in
I hope they can make their lives better than I've made mine

Copyright © Johanna M Stone 2011

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