by Graowf
Not music sweet nor autumn’s tint,
nor woman fair with stirring scent,
nor warmth of sun on winter glade,
nor ‘freshing cool of forest shade,
nor sated hunger, nor slated thirst.
Man whose beast his virtues cursed,
no earthly thing the monster tame,
only His One Holy Name.
(11/8/2013)
Another old poem I don't think I posted anywhere before.