Truant

Hide all your snares, vain town
Gilded with cross and crown,
Lest your foul streams deter
The day’s new worshiper.

Break in my heart, O chains,
Your self-inflicted pains,
And every shackle fall
From me for good and all.

Let the grey dawn propose
Conjunction with the rose,
And the blue noon fulfill
indolently its will.

Where the warm vales repeat
The ecstasy of heat,
And the slow forest heaves
in transport all its leaves,

i can uplift my eyes
To th’enduring paradise,
And cast white flames in the air
Of proud unsecret prayer.

A E Coppard, born this day in 1878

 

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