Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TENET, by GORDON LECLAIRE



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TENET, by            
First Line: We know not whence we come nor where we wend
Last Line: To fugue of faith transpose the mourners' dirge!
Subject(s): Death; Sonnet (as Literary Form); Dead, The


We know not whence we come nor where we wend,
Yet through the murky maelstrom of our doubt
There flares a torch no whirlwind can put out
Wherein the lights of all creation blend!
Like forces which in April warmth distend
The sleeping bud within its sheath, throughout
The dark a glow dilates our souls, to rout
Grim shades of death which over us impend.

What if our dust commingle with the earth,
And these rude tabernacles be destroyed?
We shall not vanish all beyond the verge --
That Great "Elan Vital" which gave it birth
Shall claim each soul from out Golgotha's void.
To fugue of Faith transpose the mourners' dirge!





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