What bud unopened presses toward the Light? It is the mystic rose with my breast. A mask of sorrow covering my sight Precludes the calm that ushers in the Guest.
And yet I feel the beating of great wings, Their pinion-shafts preparing now to soar Beyond the bourne of unsubstantial things To break the seals upon the golden door.
O spirit-bird fly from this human cage To join your voice in chorus of heaven-song, From silver notes upon a golden page Sing forth the melodies for which I long.
I know this hidden rose that slowly swells And grows towards inevitable bloom "€œ Surrender is its soil, from silence wells Its sustenance dispersing mortal gloom.
No force on earth is strong enough to stay Its flowering and by the sacrifice Of ignorance its petals shall display My soul that on its offered stem shall rise.
Poems Undated (1727)
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