IT'S NOT A THING OF BEAUTY
It's not a thing of beauty but it's tue,
We feel it like a telescopic view,
It doesn't qualify as something new,
But still it beats within the rhythm's blue
And takes its measure off the phantom's wing,
Removes the very essence from the thing,
Retards the way we hear it when we sing,
And seals the matter with its signet ring.
No mortal man or beast has seen it pass,
It slips from place to place like polished glass,
The catapult of time it can surpass
As energy returns it to its mass.
And if the labyrinth of chance may choose,
A finger-snap will light its flashing fuse.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #14
Sonnet
Sunday, November 7, 2010
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