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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PARADISE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I cannot think of paradise a place
Last Line: Or help god make a blossom or a star.
Subject(s): Heaven; Paradise


I cannot think of Paradise a place
Where men go idly to and fro,
With harps of gold and robes that shame the snow;
With great wide wings that brightly interlace
Whene'er they sing before the Master's face—
Within a realm where neither pain nor woe,
Nor care is found; where tempests never blow;
Where souls with hopes and dreams may run no race.
Such paradise were but a hell to me;
Devoid of all progression, I should rot,
Or shout for revolution, wide and far.
Better some simple task, a spirit free
To act along the line of self forgot—
Or help God make a blossom or a star.





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