![]() A Path Too Fair**A Poem by Paris HladThe Path Too Fair
A bell is softly ringing In the bistered hand of day, And I am standing on the steps Above the little cay, that slips Beneath the fishing pier And drops into the deep, To which my mind Has wandered In its loves,
So long asleep
It rings from out the steeple Of a church some blocks away,
And in its staid recital, I am pleased to hear it play;
I sense in it an unshed tear That it was meant to wake, And in a swell of sentiment, My heart begins to break
It seems as if a thing I dreamed That moved me long ago Whose purpose then I could not guess
And value did not know
It bids me down a path too fair, A way too dear to dare, for I am old And cannot risk the beauty that is there
Yet I will share a thought with you That I fear to advance �" It is that though We have but love, love lives our full expanse
We are the portrait’s vibrant paint, The face, both fresh and dear �" The essence of the miracle
That gives life meaning here
We are God’s goodly masterpiece, The logos in the art; the noble hand That lifts a lamp and leads a tender heart
We are the waking of a mind, the scribblings in a tome �" The looking back upon the bay, as we are going home
Nostalgia is more than a time we in our need recast, It is the pith of all we love, both now and in the past It is the joy, and every pain that we in wonder hear Upon the sounding of a bell, when God to us is near
I pass a tower on my way, and silently it stands, And I am mulling how its clock Is round with moving hands�"
I hear a bell that rings within; I hear a bell that chimes Upon the writing of a poem that echoes, as it rhymes.[1] © 2023 Paris Hlad |
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Added on February 16, 2023 Last Updated on February 16, 2023 Author![]() Paris HladSouthport, NC, United States Minor Outlying IslandsAboutI am a 70-year-old retired New York state high school English teacher, living in Southport, NC. more..Writing
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