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NOWHERE COULD I SEE MY LOVE.
AND—THIS TIME—
SHE WAS IN MY HEART.
TRULY, THEN, I HAVE NO COMPLAINT,
FOR THOUGH SHE BE FAIR AND FAIRER,
SHE IS NONE SO FAIR AS SHE
IN MY HEART.
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I STOOD UPON A HIGH PLACE,
AND SAW, BELOW, MANY DEVILS
RUNNING, LEAPING,
AND CAROUSING IN SIN.
ONE LOOKED UP, GRINNING,
AND SAID, “COMRADE! BROTHER!”
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SHOULD THE WIDE WORLD ROLL AWAY,
LEAVING BLACK TERROR,
LIMITLESS NIGHT,
NOR GOD, NOR MAN, NOR PLACE TO STAND
WOULD BE TO ME ESSENTIAL,
IF THOU AND THY WHITE ARMS WERE THERE,
AND THE FALL TO DOOM A LONG WAY.
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IN A LONELY PLACE,
I ENCOUNTERED A SAGE
WHO SAT, ALL STILL,
REGARDING A NEWSPAPER.
HE ACCOSTED ME:
“SIR, WHAT IS THIS?”
THEN I SAW THAT I WAS GREATER,
AYE, GREATER THAN THIS SAGE.
I ANSWERED HIM AT ONCE,
“OLD, OLD MAN, IT IS THE WISDOM OF THE AGE.”
THE SAGE LOOKED UPON ME WITH ADMIRATION.
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“AND THE SINS OF THE FATHERS SHALL BE VISITED UPON THE HEADS OF THE CHILDREN, EVEN UNTO THE THIRD AND FOURTH GENERATION OF THEM THAT HATE ME.”
WELL, THEN, I HATE THEE, UNRIGHTEOUS PICTURE;
WICKED IMAGE, I HATE THEE;
SO, STRIKE WITH THY VENGEANCE
THE HEADS OF THOSE LITTLE MEN
WHO COME BLINDLY.
IT WILL BE A BRAVE THING.
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IF THERE IS A WITNESS TO MY LITTLE LIFE,
TO MY TINY THROES AND STRUGGLES,
HE SEES A FOOL;
AND IT IS NOT FINE FOR GODS TO MENACE FOOLS.
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THERE WAS A CRIMSON CLASH OF WAR.
LANDS TURNED BLACK AND BARE;
WOMEN WEPT;
BABES RAN, WONDERING.
THERE CAME ONE WHO UNDERSTOOD NOT THESE THINGS.
HE SAID, “WHY IS THIS?”
WHEREUPON A MILLION STROVE TO ANSWER HIM.
THERE WAS SUCH INTRICATE CLAMOR OF TONGUES,
THAT STILL THE REASON WAS NOT.
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“TELL BRAVE DEEDS OF WAR.”
THEN THEY RECOUNTED TALES,—
“THERE WERE STERN STANDS
“AND BETTER RUNS FOR GLORY.”
AH, I THINK THERE WERE BRAVER DEEDS.
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CHARITY, THOU ART A LIE,
A TOY OF WOMEN,
A PLEASURE OF CERTAIN MEN.
IN THE PRESENCE OF JUSTICE,
LO, THE WALLS OF THE TEMPLE
ARE VISIBLE
THROUGH THY FORM OF SUDDEN SHADOWS.
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THERE WERE MANY WHO WENT IN HUDDLED PROCESSION,
THEY KNEW NOT WHITHER;
BUT, AT ANY RATE, SUCCESS OR CALAMITY
WOULD ATTEND ALL IN EQUALITY.
THERE WAS ONE WHO SOUGHT A NEW ROAD.
HE WENT INTO DIREFUL THICKETS,
AND ULTIMATELY HE DIED THUS, ALONE;
BUT THEY SAID HE HAD COURAGE.
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IN HEAVEN,
SOME LITTLE BLADES OF GRASS
STOOD BEFORE GOD.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
THEN ALL SAVE ONE OF THE LITTLE BLADES
BEGAN EAGERLY TO RELATE
THE MERITS OF THEIR LIVES.
THIS ONE STAYED A SMALL WAY BEHIND,
ASHAMED.
PRESENTLY, GOD SAID,
“AND WHAT DID YOU DO?”
THE LITTLE BLADE ANSWERED, “OH, MY LORD,
“MEMORY IS BITTER TO ME,
“FOR, IF I DID GOOD DEEDS,
“I KNOW NOT OF THEM.”
THEN GOD, IN ALL HIS SPLENDOR,
AROSE FROM HIS THRONE.
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