While walking in a grove of wooded shadows,
I startled just to notice, far too late
That as I strode, each step brought darkened weight
Upon my drawn shoulders, mocking the boughs
That drooped with sunken pride in solemn rows.
Ahead, a noble break of light was bait
For all my hopes: It seemed a quickened gait
Could have saved me, so had I chose,
But as I came more near the searing light
I saw shadows within it, streaked and grim;
The tree I was beneath was such great height
It made all sights before me shrink and dim;
I should have known my path would so benight
And so obscure intention, wrong or right.
June 21
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