User:Joe Spencer/(a quaint, but curious) volume of forgotten lore
From Feast upon the Word (http://feastupontheword.org). Copyright, Feast upon the Word.
(a quaint, but curious) volume of forgotten lore Athirst, I sought the flood, I asked that dry dust might be mud to make one see; and as I asked, so water poured from heaven's window, but not aboard a box was I; but through the mud I saw that crate, with windows locked inside: my fate was so to be; and so now drowning, seeking dove, my olive branch I upward shove with waiting cry: Thou bird who canst not lie! Bring a share of bread to me! Dry this flood now, lest I die! Let this, my mud, be dust in thee! Now as my plea on nothing rings, I hear the sound of desperate wings that hope for rest; and through the mud I see, not white, but black as raven hoves in sight in search of hav'n; no window let the creature pass, but holds he in his beak a glass, white stone, thrice blessed; the rock alone betwixt us both doth pass at first, but O, then quoth he, quoth the rav'n: Be it rare, or radiant, pav'n way of gold: angels attest thy new-found name is never (crav'n though thou be) more than God compressed! Thus weighed, let me press this drowning glass of wine to my fiery lips.
