I caught the thread of an immortal ode Somewhere at the outer edge of mind, A gift it was and graciously bestowed But my skills were weak my knowledge ill-defined,
A mediocre bard who penned a line But missed the rhythm and the pulse yet strove To find a motived phrase that would define, The vision that came burdened with such love.
I focused prayer as on a candle's flame Expunging from consciousness the outward sense That sees the world a challenge or a game Or vehicle for personal recompense,
Then wandered through the stubble-fields of words Searching for the metres that might climb Beyond the facile phrase like soaring birds Distil the essence of the Word sublime.
When light now comes I call upon the Name For one brief poem to set the soul aflame.
Poems Undated (1727)
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