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Happy those early days, when I
Shin’d in my Angel-infancy!
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race,
Or taught my soul to fancy aught
But a white celestial thought:
When yet I had not walk’d above
A mile or two from my first Love,
And looking back—at that short space—
Could see a glimpse of His bright face:
When on some gilded cloud, or flow’r,
My gazing soul would dwell an hour,
And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity:
Before I taught my tongue to wound
My Conscience with a sinful sound,
Or had the black art to dispense
A several sin to ev’ry sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness.

  O how I long to travel back,
And tread again that ancient track!
That I might once more reach that plain
Where first I left my glorious train;
From whence th’ enlightned spirit sees
That shady City of Palm-trees.
But ah! my soul with too much stay
Is drunk, and staggers in the way!
Some men a forward motion love,
But I by backward steps would move;
And when this dust falls to the urn,
In that state I came, return.
301

I reason, Earth is short—
And Anguish—absolute—
And many hurt,
But, what of that?

I reason, we could die—
The best Vitality
Cannot excel Decay,
But, what of that?

I reason, that in Heaven—
Somehow, it will be even—
Some new Equation, given—
But, what of that?
Alas in class I can not stand,
for sitting stuck
I am

Bricked in within this open tomb,
a lamb not on the lamb

Penned in among a hundred sheep,
as, subtle thought, is shorn

This lectures lies on liberty,
a dogma badly worn

A lass up front, her words float forth,
entreating minds, "Obey!"

As silence echos loudly back,
against the yawning day

Perhaps tis cruel to vicious rule
this agony too long

To taunting treat and witty beat
this croaking siren song

Alas in class I must to stay,
or lass will doom my GPA

But even so I worry not,
as time entangles now my lot

For though this lass has caught me in
a class from which I wish to win
my freedom yet I do not fear
the warped ties that bind me here
at last a lass will be no more,
this bit of class will dull it's bore

And freedom will at last then come
as class, alas and this, is done



For more see:

~ http://aweavingofwords.blogspot.com ~

— The End —