On The Immortality Of English Literature Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

these living books and the fair dreams that rose from them

in all times, places, ornament of the souls

that dwelled before us in the daily round


or in the aftermath of war's affliction

the heart bowed down to the very earth in grief

and chains unbound:


still to be read, still to be understood


you will not vanquish here on earth this certain good


where Heaven has affixed a golden seal

and angels wept as well as men

to read what cannot be written again


what must remain enshrined

for all men for all time


so far surpassing was a language incarnated

In the Beginning; now, in my rhyme remembered.


mary angela dougla 10 march 2020