A Parable of Paradise

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                A Parable of Paradise</title>
                <author>Genevieve Taggard</author>
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                        <addrLine>306 Andrews</addrLine>
                        <addrLine>University of Nebraska&#8211;Lincoln</addrLine>
                        <addrLine>Lincoln, NE 68588-4100</addrLine>
                        <addrLine>alextelesca@outlook.com</addrLine>
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                <date>2019</date>
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                    <p>Copyright &#169; 2019 by Alex Telesca</p>
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                    <title level="a">The Best Poems of 1924</title>
                    <editor>L.A.G. Strong</editor>
                    <!-- Make an author or illustrator line for each one mentioned in the piece. -->
                    <author>Genevieve Taggard</author>
                    <date when="190406">February 1924</date>
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                    <publisher>Small, Maynard &#38; Company Publishers</publisher>
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                Transcribed and encoded a poem</change>


            
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            <head>A Parable of Paradise</head> 




<lg type="stanza">
<l>THERE'LL be a glassy paradise</l>
<l>Where all will have their crowns of ice,</l>
<l>And all will wear their robes of snow;</l>
<l>And the trees will bow and the winds will blow-</l>
<l>And men will falter to and fro.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>Men will prowl like timid beasts</l>
<l>Hungry after a hundred feasts</l>
<l>And break the bracken down in the woods,</l>
<l>Crash and fret and gaze and spy-</l>
<l>And look for nothing, low and high.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>Then they will shiver, and go to sleep . . .</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>To sleep, to sleep, and toss and sigh-</l>
<l>Sprawled they will mutter where they lie,</l>
<l>And sit up rigid, and wonder why.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>They seem to stretch and never wake:</l>
<l>There is a glaze they cannot break</l>
<l>To the world outside or the inner eye;</l>
<l>Oh, how they retch and cannot ache,</l>
<l>Oh, how they try and cannot weep-</l>
<l>And there's nothing to do but shiver and sleep.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>This weight of nothingness is more</l>
<l>Than any planet stood before</l>
<l>Shades and empty clouds will gather</l>
<l>Tons of fret in weight of weather,</l>
<l>Till under the burden of this lack</l>
<l>Obeisant earth will warp and crack,</l>
<l>Open a wound to bleed them terror.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>Lava, lava. Slow and thick</l>
<l>Earth oozes, shudders, and is sick.</l>
<l>How they will gape at the molten stone,</l>
<l>Take earth's illness for their own,</l>
<l>And groan . . .</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>There they will stand, stormed by pain,</l>
<l>The obscene flood, the lewd stain.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>Across the glassy zones of ice</l>
<l>Comes the long writhe and the slow hiss,</l>
<l>Sluggish red, the fire's kiss-</l>
<l>Snaky mark in paradise.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>And who is this delivers them?</l>
<l>The serpent, yea, the very same</l>
<l>Who was their doom and shame.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>Cast down your haughty diadem.</l>
<l>Your paradisal diadem,</l>
<l>Into the lava flame.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>Now all the pent-up rivers run</l>
<l>In head-long silence under sun;</l>
<l>And miracle, oh, miracle</l>
<l>The silver fluid in their veins</l>
<l>Is moving in a miracle:</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>In them their own volcanoes seethe,</l>
<l>And their bright bodies breathe . . .</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>And fixedly as in a spell</l>
<l>They watch the serpent writhe, and wreathe</l>
<l>Over the earth, and on to smite</l>
<l>The glassy sea-and the marble, white</l>
<l>Stone sea uplifts a mist of light.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>Oh, what marvels they behold:</l>
<l>The mountains settling, fold on fold,</l>
<l>Cliffs that melt, and rivers gold,</l>
<l>And mists like angels rising slowly,</l>
<l>Singing holy, holy, holy.</l>
           </lg>


<lg type="stanza">
<l>They are not souls, but flesh at last,</l>
<l>And the rent earth, under the ice,</l>
<l>Dearer than any paradise -</l>
<l>Into the sea their crowns they cast,</l>
<l>Into the air go up their cries,</l>
<l>With joy they rend their snowy guise,</l>
<l>And now they wait, transfixed with awe</l>
<l>By the white sea-by the red flaw.</l>
           </lg>
            <byline>Genevieve Taggard</byline> 
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A Parable of Paradise Genevieve Taggard 2019 University of Nebraska–Lincoln Center for Alex Telesca's Fame
306 Andrews University of Nebraska–Lincoln Lincoln, NE 68588-4100 alextelesca@outlook.com
2019

Copyright © 2019 by Alex Telesca

The Best Poems of 1924 L.A.G. Strong Genevieve Taggard February 1924 Small, Maynard & Company Publishers Boston

Alex Telesca Transcribed and encoded a poem
A Parable of Paradise THERE'LL be a glassy paradise Where all will have their crowns of ice, And all will wear their robes of snow; And the trees will bow and the winds will blow- And men will falter to and fro. 5 Men will prowl like timid beasts Hungry after a hundred feasts And break the bracken down in the woods, Crash and fret and gaze and spy- And look for nothing, low and high. 5 Then they will shiver, and go to sleep . . . To sleep, to sleep, and toss and sigh- Sprawled they will mutter where they lie, And sit up rigid, and wonder why. They seem to stretch and never wake: There is a glaze they cannot break To the world outside or the inner eye; Oh, how they retch and cannot ache, Oh, how they try and cannot weep- 5 And there's nothing to do but shiver and sleep. This weight of nothingness is more Than any planet stood before Shades and empty clouds will gather Tons of fret in weight of weather, Till under the burden of this lack 5 Obeisant earth will warp and crack, Open a wound to bleed them terror. Lava, lava. Slow and thick Earth oozes, shudders, and is sick. How they will gape at the molten stone, Take earth's illness for their own, And groan . . . 5 There they will stand, stormed by pain, The obscene flood, the lewd stain. Across the glassy zones of ice Comes the long writhe and the slow hiss, Sluggish red, the fire's kiss- Snaky mark in paradise. And who is this delivers them? The serpent, yea, the very same Who was their doom and shame. Cast down your haughty diadem. Your paradisal diadem, Into the lava flame. Now all the pent-up rivers run In head-long silence under sun; And miracle, oh, miracle The silver fluid in their veins Is moving in a miracle: 5 In them their own volcanoes seethe, And their bright bodies breathe . . . And fixedly as in a spell They watch the serpent writhe, and wreathe Over the earth, and on to smite The glassy sea-and the marble, white Stone sea uplifts a mist of light. 5 Oh, what marvels they behold: The mountains settling, fold on fold, Cliffs that melt, and rivers gold, And mists like angels rising slowly, Singing holy, holy, holy. 5 They are not souls, but flesh at last, And the rent earth, under the ice, Dearer than any paradise - Into the sea their crowns they cast, Into the air go up their cries, 5 With joy they rend their snowy guise, And now they wait, transfixed with awe By the white sea-by the red flaw. Genevieve Taggard

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A Parable of Paradise Genevieve Taggard 2019 University of Nebraska–Lincoln Center for Alex Telesca's Fame
306 Andrews University of Nebraska–Lincoln Lincoln, NE 68588-4100 alextelesca@outlook.com
2019

Copyright © 2019 by Alex Telesca

The Best Poems of 1924 L.A.G. Strong Genevieve Taggard February 1924 Small, Maynard & Company Publishers Boston

Alex Telesca Transcribed and encoded a poem
A Parable of Paradise THERE'LL be a glassy paradise Where all will have their crowns of ice, And all will wear their robes of snow; And the trees will bow and the winds will blow- And men will falter to and fro. Men will prowl like timid beasts Hungry after a hundred feasts And break the bracken down in the woods, Crash and fret and gaze and spy- And look for nothing, low and high. Then they will shiver, and go to sleep . . . To sleep, to sleep, and toss and sigh- Sprawled they will mutter where they lie, And sit up rigid, and wonder why. They seem to stretch and never wake: There is a glaze they cannot break To the world outside or the inner eye; Oh, how they retch and cannot ache, Oh, how they try and cannot weep- And there's nothing to do but shiver and sleep. This weight of nothingness is more Than any planet stood before Shades and empty clouds will gather Tons of fret in weight of weather, Till under the burden of this lack Obeisant earth will warp and crack, Open a wound to bleed them terror. Lava, lava. Slow and thick Earth oozes, shudders, and is sick. How they will gape at the molten stone, Take earth's illness for their own, And groan . . . There they will stand, stormed by pain, The obscene flood, the lewd stain. Across the glassy zones of ice Comes the long writhe and the slow hiss, Sluggish red, the fire's kiss- Snaky mark in paradise. And who is this delivers them? The serpent, yea, the very same Who was their doom and shame. Cast down your haughty diadem. Your paradisal diadem, Into the lava flame. Now all the pent-up rivers run In head-long silence under sun; And miracle, oh, miracle The silver fluid in their veins Is moving in a miracle: In them their own volcanoes seethe, And their bright bodies breathe . . . And fixedly as in a spell They watch the serpent writhe, and wreathe Over the earth, and on to smite The glassy sea-and the marble, white Stone sea uplifts a mist of light. Oh, what marvels they behold: The mountains settling, fold on fold, Cliffs that melt, and rivers gold, And mists like angels rising slowly, Singing holy, holy, holy. They are not souls, but flesh at last, And the rent earth, under the ice, Dearer than any paradise - Into the sea their crowns they cast, Into the air go up their cries, With joy they rend their snowy guise, And now they wait, transfixed with awe By the white sea-by the red flaw. Genevieve Taggard