A Little Poem

(I.) Of Ulysses, Homer's Troy And The Wrathful Gods I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees Climb slowly. Eons unguessed, ere I shall see the crest Of the blue towers, - love's high citadels Hath reared, utterably beautiful Unutterably holy, truth's infinite light. I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees Climb slowly. Thy mystic news from out the Invisible Would save all men, were they content to dwell In the lowly station, proud to share the power That forms the world in secret hour by hour. I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees Climb slowly. I have not heard any man yet born Unlocked in verse such cruel agony Great gusts of song, raw as uptorn Thou grim and gruesome master of the sea. I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees Climb slowly. Set thee upon some mountain promontory With no companion but that ancient story In the mirror of Princes, And thou shalt find thy throne restored to thee. I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees Climb slowly. (II.) Duality Thy day is filled with echoes of olden time, Shadows of pain. I watch the skylark climb Into the sun above the golden grain. One thou lovest for that he wrote his dream In blood, then died. True joy is it doth gleam Even among the sweet flowers of summer tide. Yet thou and I are he that now doth write, Of ancient seed deep-rooted, dark and light, Sheltering good and evil at their need. (III.) A Little Poem A little poem a dark soul brought forth One hour of loneliness and misery; Yet round it swung the keen stars of the north, And deep within it moaned a troubled sea. The joy'est trust of those eternal fires, And all the calm those billows yearned unto, Were in that poem, in that soul's desires, And in the Heart that flashed that vision through. R.J. Lindley, April, 3rd, 1973 (Within the shadows of a youthful mind's mysterious desires and radiant glow)... From my new blog....