SEVEN THOUSAND SUNNY YEARS

Your tender eidolon tonight attested

To my heart as, composing my verse,

I had reprised a song often we'd heard

In the private wanderings when you, the first,

Were my lone.

                      The intimation, toned of phrasing

So solemn, called that latent you to me--

A lustrous presence of delicate need,

Unclouded by doubt or care,

As before me you'd plead to count some daisies

Your perfectly frail hands would bear.

 

How rapidly a father's years will fare;

What tranquil sorrow is a father's care.

    THE ANCIENT WHEELS

Where carnal eyes cannot discern,
Beholden only to the mind,
The ancient wheels forever turn,
Makerless and undesigned.

Where space dissolves and time is broken,
There gear meets ageless gear.
No hand can touch, nor word is spoken,
Nor sound can greet the ear.

What matter, space, and time conceal
Is shapeless form and deepest real,
That only naked thought reveals;
My mind beholds the ancient wheels.

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