The breadth of meditations in this form,
The depths plumbed by the art of ancient men,
The qualities whereby man’s heart doth warm
Are fathomless, yet sounded by a pen
Of beauty, love, and trust these lines do sing;
Though longing, lust, and grief at times appear.
The hearts of champions cheering for their king
Could not produce a melody so clear
Each stroke and jot penned by the hands of old
Teach new and joyous lips to spend their breath
Not only in the shining halls of gold,
But also in the hallowed place of death.
No theme was yet discovered so profound
That fourteen lines could not contain its sound.
The depths plumbed by the art of ancient men,
The qualities whereby man’s heart doth warm
Are fathomless, yet sounded by a pen
Of beauty, love, and trust these lines do sing;
Though longing, lust, and grief at times appear.
The hearts of champions cheering for their king
Could not produce a melody so clear
Each stroke and jot penned by the hands of old
Teach new and joyous lips to spend their breath
Not only in the shining halls of gold,
But also in the hallowed place of death.
No theme was yet discovered so profound
That fourteen lines could not contain its sound.
Jill...you're so amazing and blessed with this ability to use your words to mean exactly what they say. (Did that make sense? Maybe you could word it better.) Love it!!
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