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Poem by Alice Meynell The Courts A FIGURE OF THE EPIPHANY The poet's imageries are noble ways, Approaches to a plot, an open shrine. Their splendours, colours, avenues, arrays, Their courts that run with wine; Beautiful similes, "fair and flagrant things," Enriched, enamouring,—raptures, metaphors Enhancing life, are paths for pilgrim kings Made free of golden doors. And yet the open heavenward plot, with dew, Ultimate poetry, enclosed, enskied (Albeit such ceremonies lead thereto) Stands on the yonder side. Plain, behind oracles, it is; and past All symbols, simple; perfect, heavenly-wild, The song some loaded poets reach at last— The kings that found a Child. Alice Meynell Alice Meynell's other poems: 1251 Views |
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