Some dog barks from the clustered houses' sense Of sheer commun'ty, distant as th'all hail As twere of sparrows and the Cardnal. Pale Warmth is a tender kiss we feel from hence While frore winds drive last Fall's leaves sans suspense Across the naked blacktop. Donne's poems they'll Assure us are good reading lies t'avail Next me upon the stoop, and whither thence? Hark! as the dove's soft coo wafts 'non in tour Likeas a note from yonder. Say we knew, Yet would not dare acknowledge aught that'd stir Except by halves, blind, deaf, and sorry to A fault cuz we'd not praise Thee, LORD, in tour Was it? Nor give Thee thanks. How firs call too.
31Mar19b
The final sentence culls to mind: "Ephraim shall say, What have I to do any more with idols? I have heard him, and observed him: I am like a green fir tree. From me is thy fruit found. Who is wise, and he shall understand these things? prudent, and he shall know them? for the ways of the LORD are right, and the just shall walk in them: but the transgressors shall fall therein." (Hos 14:8-9