There is an onus on the soul of man To separate refinement from the rough, An evolutionary thrust, a span Through generations of the coarse and tough Carapace of human desire and need To survive this lengthy spate of vital unrest The human condition filled with lust and greed. Falsehood appears before us as the test Of mortal sincerity and truthfulness And though our world is immured in hate and strife There are sustaining hands and eyes that bless The sacredness of Nature and human life. Some preach world's end in cataclysmic hail But I know the Grace Divine shall not fail.
Poems Undated (1727)
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