Ah for that time when open daylight pours

Ah for that time when open daylight pours
On multitudes that from our clouds emerge,
And men assured of their foundations urge,
Like the discoverers of new seas, to shores
Past thoughts of men who sick with sores
Feel Life as the disease, hail Death for purge.
At seasons we seem nearing to the verge;
Still is it ocean; ply we constant oars.
The faith we have drinks hourly from a source
Plain to the sight as green field & blue vault.
Not to that marriage does it cry divorce
Between the mind & senses
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