"I stood gimlet-eyed in the Hall to Paradise."
The color of this mystery
Is not how it should be
The type of this romance
Was merely ignorance
As the child is to the world
So we must be uncurled
And see beyond our sight
"higher beauty, truth and light."
Silvery sheaves of wheat blow westWhile bundles, buck and sweetLie piled upon the threshing floor lestAny should perish from heat.*Note: "West" refers to the direction of an apostate.
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