It was not a day for poetry, In the night and through the day Something held back the pen From giving to the world of men. From the force flowing down. Perhaps it was the aching pain Or a moment when the spirit's crown Was sadly mislaid once again; Yet in the ever-living quest Surrender and the soul's intent Knowing a deeper opening meant, Must once again make its request Inviting in the honoured Guest.
Poems Undated (1727)
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