It praises Poets for the well-sung lay;
But ah! it hath forgotten how to pray.
It brings to brows of Poets crowns of Pride;
Some win such crowns and wear;
Give me, instead, a simple little Prayer.
---
The living child of a dead Poet is like a faintly glowing Sanctuary lamp,
which sheds its rays in the beautiful Temple whence the great Presence
hath departed.
-- Abram J. Ryan
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Father Ryan's Poems.
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