Vision
by Aldous Huxley (1894-1963)
I had been sitting along with books,
Till doubt was a black disease,
When I heard the cheerful shout of rocks
In the bare, prophetic trees.
Bare trees, prophetic of new birth,
You lift your branches clean and free
To be a beacon to the earth,
A flame of wrath for all to see.
And the rocks in the branches laugh and shout
To those that can hear and understand:
Post a Comment