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Poem by Ina Donna Coolbrith The Bribe ‘All These I Will Give Thee’ World plaudits! Glamour of the tinsel crowd In adulation! Fame, the meator Fame, And Youth, still golden Youth! The price-a Soul. Failure! -if it be failure still to hold The Dream unbroken! Bent, paupered, old- The great World turned aside, Ever unhearing, from that Voice divine. But still, else lost, the Voice divine his own, No accent missing, Still each cord supreme! Failure! -if it be failure-his to be, The Soul’s immortal Youth upon his brow, One with endless rapture of all Sound, Song of all Song, The music of the spheres- God’s Hand upon the Keys! Ina Donna Coolbrith Ina Donna Coolbrith's other poems: 1189 Views |
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