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A BROKEN ASHLAR
by Bro. Seymor
of imperfection round me clings;
an inward voice in deep lament:
the dark chancel of my soul there rings
chant, with fear and yearning blent.
a specter's voice in lonely round:
tell from whence it came-or why,-
harrows all my thoughts with mournful sound,
echoes of a drowning seaman's cry.
precious pearls of wasted talent thrown
isolated spots of my life's field:
irrecoverable riches sown
worthless seed that gave a barren yield.
images of folly, sloth and sin
flecked with error all my nobler past,
mockingly around with leering grin;
with shuddering doubt-I am aghast!
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Last modified: March 22, 2014