Aldous Huxley


Vision - Poem by Aldous Huxley

I had been sitting alone with books,
Till doubt was a black disease,
When I heard the cheerful shout of rooks
In the bare, prophetic trees.

Bare trees, prophetic of new birth,
You lift your branches clean and free
To be a beacon to the earth,
A flame of wrath for all to see.

And the rooks in the branches laugh and shout
To those that can hear and understand:
'Walk through the gloomy ways of doubt
With the torch of vision in your hand.'


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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 3, 2014

Poem Edited: Monday, March 3, 2014


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