That Triune Term of Promise
May be easy to pronounce,
But the heart worn down by obstacles
Pounds more than just an ounce.
But there seems no simple remedy
For this condition or its aim
Since the most sincere of efforts
Renders results that are much the same.
I've had no prior experience with this
I've wondered whether I could
And now that it envelopes me,
I'm not so sure it's good.
No purity in thought or will
No picture makes it better,
No gesture grand or small
Neither utterance nor letter.
If I could free my tongue from care
And the words stuck in my throat,
I might just wrench the syllables out,
And passion's flame emote.
Consistency and honesty
Add nothing to my vote,
No Hymns nor Works of Mercy,
No Harmony of phrase or note.
The Heavens willingly supply no device:
No offering and no sacrifice
Can demonstrate my intent precise,
Nor any miracle suffice.
If declaring had a substitute
It could ease this tug inside my chest,
And then if you'd believe me,
My soul might find some rest.
