The Fringe of Heaven
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Now have I left the world and all its tears, And high above the sunny cloud-banks fly, Alone in all this vast and lonely sky— This limpid space in which the myriad spheres Go thundering on, whose song God only hears High in his heavens. Ah! how small seem I, And yet I know he hears my little cry Down there among Mankind's cruel jest and sneers. And I forget the grief which I have known, And I forgive the mockers and their jest, And in this mightly solitude alone, I taste the joys of everlasting rest, Which I shall know when I have passed away To live in Heaven's never-fading day. Written in the Air. |
Three Triolets
Cloud Thoughts
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Above the clouds I sail, above the clouds, And wish my mind Above its clouds could climb as well, And leave behind The world and all its crowds, And ever dwell In such a calm and limpid solitude With ne'er a breath unkind or harsh or rude To break the spell— With ne'er a thought to drive away The golden splendour of the day. Alone and lost beneath the tranquil blue, My God! With you! Written in an Aeroplane. |