Branches shed mints

Were it another in your stead,
Afire, ablaze, beholden to Faust.
Yet Gloria, Gloria – amen –
Sing wider still to all.

Trust never what sulks ahead,
Nor admit contentious sound.
Now wary of all glum,
Now carillon bells together call.

Luminous in the seabed,
Feeble in the lighthouse.
But sonorous in the sanatorium –
and reverent in the hall.

J39M

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