Now is the Autumm of the Tree of Life;
Its leaves are shed upon the unthankful earth,
Wich lets them whirl, a prey to the winds’ strife,
Heartless to store them for the months of dearth.
Men close the door, and dress the cheerful hearth,
Self-trusting still; and in his comely gear
Of precept and of rite, a household Baal rear.
But I will out amid the sleet, and view
Each shrivelling stalk and silent-falling leaf.
Truth after truth, of choicest scent and hue,
Fades, and in fading stirs the Angel’s gfief.
Unanswer’d here; for she, once pattern chief
Of faith, muy Country, now gross hearted grown,
Waits but to burn the stem before her idol’s throne.
Cardinal John Newman
domingo, dezembro 16, 2007
Progress of unbelief
Publicada por Rafael Castela Santos à(s) domingo, dezembro 16, 2007
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