Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from A Parable of the Rose: And Other Poems
The ripest fruits of Wisdom's tree, Imagination's eye and Wing.
Therefore I give thee of life's yield My treasures, garnered year by year, Some bits of heavenly atmosphere, Some gleams the peaks of joy revealed, Some finer strains of faith Whose lilt Is music strange, to thee not strange Since thou hast had ascension range Where skyey domes of seers are built.
These are a spirit's soaring thrifts Got 'twixt the rhythms of Love and Fate, A poet's soul articulate.
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