The Day Still Does Rise Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

THE DAY STILL DOES RISE

God's ardor trembles as thunders do roam.
And although in hell pains have no end,
He is glad when he sees it fit to send
Wisdom given to help us home.

For I was cast out among the devil's mead,
Savagely bruised in a toxic rain
Where his cold and furious, mortal disdain
Procured for him a smile as a saint did bleed.

Yet the sunny dawn of day still did rise
Over hills and castles wonderfully lit again,
Housing pretty young maidens and cheerful old men
Tending to an ever new empirical surprise.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ