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A Vision / Duncan Campbell Scott

Von: George Dance (georgedance04@yahoo.ca) [Profil]
Datum: 17.03.2010 23:54
Message-ID: <7e315a3c-0fae-4e10-afb3-6169b490af4a@g19g2000yqe.googlegroups.com>
Newsgroup: alt.arts
A Vision

The tenebrous sky
Was founded on lightning,
And there came marching
To a funeral,
A multitude so millioned
That number was unthinkable;
There were massed together
Kings pierced with their sceptres,
Tyrants shod with the points of swords,
And priests each with a live coal
In the palm of his hand,
Learned men
With book-yokes on their necks,
Merchants with gold eyelids;
Each one tortured with his symbol
And an innumerable host
Without sign or distinction;
Each bore a tuft of grass
In his fingers;
The grass was in seed,
And as they walked,
The seed fell where it listed.
There was no sound
As the host marched
To the funeral;
But what was buried
Was far in the Past,
And the host poured up
From the Future.

Duncan Campbell Scott

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