The Question


There beyond the horizon aye,
My bonnie brae abides.
She in sweet oblivion knows
Not my hearth of ember'd coals
From earth, her depth, be dredged.
It is the edge'd tooth of time,
Such lingering death to joy be mine
Own uplifting hope somewhere...
That Love be yet residing there;
Upon my test, be waiting.

I fear the siren's fate-ing sound;
That she herself, her voice be found
From echoe'd hollows and cavern'd hips,
Where honey drips from clefted lips,
To womb me in her singing arms.

My pray alarms my lonely soul;
Stirs my resolve to distant goal,
Where Truth and Love shall there embrace;
Causing me again to face.... The Question,
Of my own existence.

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