And the Second is Like Unto the First

it reads:
If help in just the smallest part
We'd helped a soul in need
Though Yours the greater, truer art,
Make this our only creed.


No Chimes

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
I sleep only knowing night
A time by time unmark'd
And waking comes with light
Across the dome is arc'd
The sun, whose burning face
Is with its color return'd,
Whose winter resting place
The north, is now only spurn'd;
I seek this time of peace
Whose face is yet unmark'd
By minutes' gloomy lease
To count, to count has spark'd
This change to dif'rent time
When it can be avail'd,
Which has the breath of rhyme
The swell of bells' increase
And has the poem's pace
As death nor tax's might
Against it has prevail'd.


To Lift The Voice

it reads:
A man must struggle to sing
When he feels his song is robbed him
And perhaps this is his offering
When his burdens mob him.


The Valley

it is addressed thusly:
A song.
it reads:
I rise late in seeing
The morning, and being
Unable to greet the day
In a desired sort of way
But how it must be met
For any who would yet
Seek to possess their soul
And fill its glass more full

'my cup runs over' he said
but this wine like unseen bread
which comes from afar
as the door when ajar
is opened gently and clear
as though a man were there
such is the grace of these
days which pass not in peace

our spirit is in these cups
drunk when on sorrow it sups
greatly so, greatly so
face to face may know
dis-illusion is its theme
for when all fog has been
cleared & drawn from the room
we find then the empty tomb.



it reads:
You who depart now, go in peace
Bring us something wondrous;
If not grail or golden fleece
Your tale, and make it thund'rous!


The Sun In My Eyes

it reads:
In these days the brightness of the sun
Is noticed and commented by everyone
As though we yearn for grayness past
Instead of light, give us overcast.



it reads:
Good fighting begins with the feet
And mastery ends with the hand
'fore drilling attacks it is meet
To first learn how to stand.


The World

it reads:
I cannot grasp it
But to hold on, out of course
Like this traffic jam.
a postscript is here written:
a pass-word:
psalm 82