when is a piece of work work and pure play

when is a piece of work work and pure play,
as though an earth in green strife turns light—
and while sacrifice scars and paves a way,
bright sight soars and marks well its high height;
purest pleas are innocent of pleading,
when their joy is true to the right of life,
as is sweet breath from an honest one’s love,
and direction granted to a sure choice.
the simplest patterns are these loves in love,
their greatest aims and so, their richest voice,
bringing life to the whole of the universe,
eyes to skies, and all they each send forth free—

so to be fair and fair: most fair is chaste,
as sword and word, strong sung, and so chased—

 

light shines and you are struck in the face,
like a thousand kisses to your beauty;
good art knows no bounds but to deliver,
for just pleasure to the heart is duty.
good arguments only hurt the heedless
when pain and the past are taken as one;
every story must go on through good time,
’till the fools are fooled foolish and done,
so good students father best teachers,
n’god to man is all the good he’s known.
though paths are vast to all but the preachers
beauty is seen when such freedom is shown.

melody and memory may fall and fade,
but harmony is truth you can’t evade!

 

a fool can fool you when you won’t listen,
with their words so like the way of so old;
speech spoken honest for all all-glistens,
but only truth is sound, abound and bold.
many are the ways for men to commune
and communicate so all so behold,
let lechery to those villains consume;
true beauty is just born to be told—
be it poetry, poems or “pros”—
sweet heaven to best intents is full sold,
so lack or want are fashion and fiction;
good aim lands you as high as skies’ll go.

truthful time records well what once was won:
what once was is and what is one is one.

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