Where Do the Sleeping Passions Lie?
DescriptionA Poem to Inspire Change
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Where do the sleeping passions lie? Behind silver tongues, under pristine nobility, Entombed in well-polished tranquility. There, in darkness, they will in winter die. It is hoped. High culture shuns this lowly nature. What need is there of youthful Summer’s heat? Fields of wisdom already sown, tended, reaped. Why till a spent and barren pasture, or Bear the yoke? Stoic resolutions, grown in ancient fields, Stored in open mouths, that readily profess To their harvest of eternal righteousness. Now the soil is cold, roots are dead, seeds never yield; It is said. Do not be dismayed, cultivators of spirit! Winter ends and icy hearts will thaw; Watering buried passions that erupt savage and raw. Nourishing new minds that have strength to bear it, And bury the dead.