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WAS IT A SWORD?, by                    
First Line: Old symbols bartered for a deeper truth
Last Line: Or golden poppies running with the wind?
Subject(s): Swords


Old symbols bartered for a deeper truth
Still flaunt their bright conspiracy with life.
And blow delusion's bubble in the ruth
Of star dust whirled about the keen-edged knife
Of tireless minutes; though each recurring day
Outstrips the understanding's measured line,
And kingly raiment pales before the sway
Of lily cups held purple to the vine.
These are the patterns fancy cannot mould,
And all but poet fingers rarely feel,
Creative threads so tenuous they hold
The shifting planets and the spider's reel.

Was it a flaming sword for man who sinned,
Or golden poppies running with the wind?





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