Momentary sparks from inner sight
Are drawn to Heaven's doors,
To burnished gates of Light,
But fall when cold.
While on the other side,
An Angel listens to this plight
And disregards its sombre tone,
To hear cantations bold.
A leaden song of Gold
Doth Petulance sing,
Its hope to rise, unknown,
To sing of breadth and height,
Yet, with fear and might,
The keeper of the Inner Flame
Doth factor in the earnest plea,
And grant another entrance light.
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