I have heard eternal fires burn
With notes of lessons yet to learn,
And bathed in Basho’s lyric streams
Of Summer, Winter, Fall and Spring
I have climbed the lichen cliffs unseen
And heard that tranquil rhythmic theme
While watching herds of elk below
And never thought to draw my bow
For there in Father’s well-laid score
Was harmony displayed, and more.
‘Twas here...
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