Where Dreams May Come
I dreamed a dream of days gone by. I heard a voice from a time long past. I looked up to find a friend I had not seen for many years. Twas the voice of innocence.
I heard the cry of pain. Pride, vanity, a mortal stain. I looked up to see eyes aglow, branding the coldest Winters' snow.
Twas not innocence that stood before me but the face of Man's eternal doom. What gloom it was that I did see. Alas. Alas. How could it be this our fate? Is there nothing yet that man can do to redeem his eternal soul?
Jacob Randall's Other Poems
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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