Deep within the soul there lie The hidden springs of poetry Whose source abides in realms unseen And planes infallible and free.
With a silent mind we wait The word that shall regenerate, The song scarce heard yet inly known, The force that in us shall create
The perfect hymn, the peerless line, The mantra that is Godhead's sign. To gain this Grace no time is long For to its light our days incline,
Our aspiration's fires burn To briefly in that air sojourn.
Poems Undated (1727)
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