[Written for the Sentinel]


When beauty opes, as does the snowy rose,And sends its sweetness into all the world,Then is the Christ, the true idea, unfurledBefore the sight of men. How far it goes,No one may tell. No mortal really knowsThe wideness of its sweep, the surety of its touch,Until he sees how perfect and how muchThe innate value of his own sphere grows.No, there is nor country wide nor stateWhere pure, white flame and gracious sunrise tintsDo not awake the thought, the eye requite,And thus transcend, with wings that are elate,The drifting chaos. Then, angelic glintsOf beauty burst into perpetual light!

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.