Poems
THEME/S
Lord God, we've had enough
Of pomps and pageants old,
And all the gilded stuff
That's passed off as Your gold —
The flight of airy brains
That spin out dreams on dreams,
Where not a thought restrains
Pink passion's gushing streams.
How long shall we endure
This masquerading show?
Big words, rich words that pour
In senseless, rhymeless flow,
Without the least control
Of inward powers of light,
As though there were no soul
Behind what men must write.
Page 157
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