THIS is the end of the book
Written by God.
I am the earth he took,
I am the sod,
The wood and iron which he struck
With his sounding rod.
I am the reed that he blew:
Once quietly
By the riverside I grew,
Till one day he
Rooted me up and breathed a new
Delirium in me.
Would he had left me there,
Where all is still;
To lean on the heavy air,
Silent, at will
To be, and joy, yet not to share,
The avenging thrill.
I am the reed that he blew,
Which yet he blows,
(For this is his breath too,
And these, like those,
Are his own words blown unto you,
-Hearken if you choose!)
This is the end of the book;
And, if you read
Ought that is evil, why, look,
I but obeyed,
-When deep his voice in my ear shook,
I blew as he said!
(Langdon Elwyn Mitchell)
More Poetry from Langdon Elwyn Mitchell:
Langdon Elwyn Mitchell Poems based on Topics: Books, Joy & Excitement, Good & Evil, God- From "To a Writer of the Day" (Langdon Elwyn Mitchell Poems)
- The Wayside Virgin (Langdon Elwyn Mitchell Poems)
- Songs (Langdon Elwyn Mitchell Poems)
- To One Being Old (Langdon Elwyn Mitchell Poems)
- Nightfall in Winter (Langdon Elwyn Mitchell Poems)
- When lovers meet again (Langdon Elwyn Mitchell Poems)