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LOVE'S REALM.
By T. L. Harris. The body is not vile. Men make it so By harbouring vices in its. tenement. Sweet a.s the lily on its virgin stem, Sweet as the rose, that opes- its perfumed lips, And kisses the enamoured air of June, Is the fair child upon its, mother's breast, And the sweet ma-den in her girlhood'.s prime, And the young mother sacred unto God, Whose infant is a blossom of the soul, J Topped by His hand, and fresh from Paradise. The form is made to be the home of love, And <^ cry atom bathed in innocence, And joy and beauty, should diffuse its life, And thrill with song- to angels inly heard. The mother's bosom, Love's all-hallowed realm, Is no vile dust. Bom from the darkest a-'e Of superstition is that ancient creed That matter is the enemy of good, Accursed and h itcful to the Infinite; For every atom is a living thought, Dropped from the meditations- of a God, Its very essence an immortal love Of the incarnate Deity ; and all The inmost puNes of material things Are mediums for the pulses of His will. God's harmonics through mitter pour their flood Of billowy music. Nature is a rose Whos-e breath, and leaves, and buds, and flowers disclose The Iwauty of the One All-beautiful ; The grace and charm whose source is the Divine.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW18750925.2.93
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 1243, 25 September 1875, Page 19
Word Count
232Select Poetry Otago Witness, Issue 1243, 25 September 1875, Page 19
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