Saint's Day
Even saints fear time
when time is near.
Silver bells they hear,
chime in the flesh,
time's queer moment come,
and turn sour the blood,
hum flesh quietly hum ---
when song outlast
the body, shall all be done,
that is the spirit ---
and the hidden sky
in which a sparkling sun
turn stillness into heaven,
run over the earth,
bless all beasts saints
with holy mirth.
Ernest Slyman
HomePage
www.geocities.com/soho/7514
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"All around the hours run swift
their foolish errands."
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