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The House of Never



In the lanes of by and by
signposts are ambiguous
and will blithely point both ways
a pilgrim path contiguous

on the other side of lost
through bewildered briar and brush
tangled pine and blighted oaks
hung with skeins of Spanish Moss

while the windmills of the mind
toss and fret your fumbled dreams
and shadows of the half-world
flee the psyche’s buried seams

till daybreak sends her needling
flash through listless autumn leaves
and The Way is glimpsed no stretch
from the trail that weaves and grieves

There the course is straight and true
The Word the map for ever
but the lanes of by and by
lead to the house of Never





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