A Broken Ashlar
By Seymor Brandes1915
A sense of imperfection round me clings
I hear an inward voice in deep lament:
Through the dark chancel of my soul there rings
A boding chant, with fear and yearning blent.
Thin as a specter's voice in lonely round:
I cannot tell from whence it came-or why,-
It harrows all my thoughts with mournful sound,
Like echoes of a drowning seaman's cry.
The precious pearls of wasted talent thrown
In isolated spots of my life's field:
Its irrecoverable riches sown
As worthless seed that gave a barren yield.
The images of folly, sloth and sin
That flecked with error all my nobler past,
Troop mockingly around with leering grin
I view with shuddering doubt-I am aghast!
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My ring arrived today and I am very pleased. At the complete package The craftsmanship and detail is superior. The fit and feel is great. The shine is beautiful.
Thank You and your staff.
Brother Michael, San Francisco, CA
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