by Edmund Vance Cooke
"A Triplet of Quatrains."
To deftly do what many dimly think;
To fund a feeling for the world to borrow;
To turn a tear to printer's ink;
To make a sonnet of a sorrow.
This trouble seems to be
Chief in theology:
Each thinks the hymn should be, --
Nearer, my God, to Thee.
"The Mystery of Evil":
The rake upon a wanton wastes the wiles
Which dazzle innocence.
The nettle guards itself; the lily smiles
Unheedful of defence.
Last updated September 22, 2022