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Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс) Easter Morn A Truth that has long lain buried At Superstition's door, I see, in the dawn uprising, In all its strength once more. Hidden away in the darkness, By Ignorance crucified, Crushed under stones of dogmas-- Yet lo! it has not died. It stands in the light transfigured, It speaks from the heights above, "Each soul is its own redeemer There is no law but Love." And the spirits of men are gladdened As they welcome this Truth re-born. With its feet on the grave of Error And its eyes to the Easter Morn. Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1266 |
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