Pin It
Favorite

William Blake Goes to Hear Parlour Game at the Arcata Playhouse 

Without, the land still flows with blood,
A likeness of my day:
Earth's creatures moan, in fire and flood
And God must look away.

But here, my vagrant spirit might
Draw in the crystal air
And mark, in music's purest light
The toad, the sheep, the hare.

This is not my century!
Sin's stain has spread apace
...Yet, fixed on our trajectory
Are beams of perfect grace.
— Ellen Taylor.

Pin It
Favorite

Comments

Showing 1-1 of 1

Add a comment

 
Subscribe to this thread:
Showing 1-1 of 1

Add a comment

About The Author

Ellen Taylor

more from the author

Latest in Poetry

Readers also liked…

© 2019 North Coast Journal

Website powered by Foundation