Core: noun, the most important part of a thing, the essence; from the Latin cor, meaning heart.

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 Volume 1.12 This View’s Poetry April 29, 2002 


    The Vanishing Point    
         
   

There are who, when the bat on wing transverse
Skims the swart surface of some neighbouring mere,
  Catch that thin cry too fine for common ear:
  Thus the last joy-note of the universe
Is borne to those few listeners who immerse
  Their intellectual hearing in no clear
  Paean, but pierce it with the thin-edged spear
  Of utmost beauty which contains a curse.
Dead on their sense fall marches hymeneal,
  Triumphal odes, hymns, symphonies sonorous;
  They crave one shrill vibration, tense, ideal,
Transcending and surpassing the worldís chorus;
  Keen, fine, ethereal, exquisitely real,
  Intangible as starís light quivering oíer us.

   
         
    John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)    
    Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse p. 305
ed. D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee
   

    The Prism of Life    
         
   

All that began with God, in God must end:
  All lives are garnered in His final bliss:
  All wills hereafter shall be one with His:
  When in the sea we sought, our spirits blend.
Rays of pure light, which one frail prism may rend
  Into conflicting colours, meet and kiss
  With manifold attraction, yet still miss
  Contentment, while their kindred hues contend.
Break but that three-edged glass: — inviolate
  The sundered beams resume their primal state,
  Weaving pure light in flawless harmony.
Thus decomposed, subject to love and strife,
  Godís thought, made conscious through manís mortal life,
  Resumes through death the eternal unity.

   
         
    John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)    
    Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse p. 306
ed. D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee
   

    Adventante Deo    
         
   

Lift up your heads, gates of my heart, unfold
  Your portals to salute the King of kings!
  Behold Him come, borne on cherubic wings
  Engrained with crimson eyes and grail of gold!
Before His path the thunder-clouds withhold
  Their stormy pinions, and the desert sings:
  He from His lips divine and forehead flings
  Sunlight of peace unfathomed, bliss untold.
O soul, faint soul, disquieted how long!
  Lift up thine eyes, for lo, thy Lord is near,
  Lord of all loveliness and strength and song,
The Lord who brings heart-sadness better cheer,
  Scattering those midnight dreams that dote on wrong,
  Purging with heavenís pure rays loveís atmosphere!

   
         
    John Addington Symonds (1840-1893)    
    Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse p. 306
ed. D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee
   

    Triad    
         
    From the Silence of Time, Time’s Silence borrow.
In the heart of To-day is the word of To-morrow.
The Builders of Joy are the Children of Sorrow.
   
         
    William Sharp (1856-1902)    
    Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse p. 400    


 Volume 1.12 This View’s Poetry April 29, 2002 





The View from the Core, and all original material, © E. L. Core 2002. All rights reserved.

Cor ad cor loquitur J. H. Newman — “Heart speaks to heart”