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The Cross

There is a place that some men know,

I cannot see the whole of

Nor how I came there.

Long

Flame burst out of a secret

Crushing the world with such a

The day-sky fell to moonless black,

The kingly sun to hateful

For those, once seeing, turning back:

For love so hates

Which is the providence of

She will not let it blessed

But curses it with mortal strife,

Until beside the blinding

Within that world-destroying pit-Like young wolves that have tasted blood,

Of death, men taste no more of it.

So blind, in so severe a place(All life before in the black grave)The last alternatives they

Of life, without the life to save,

Being from all salvation weaned-A stag charged both at heel and head:

Who would come back is turned a

Instructed by the fiery dead.

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Allen Tate

John Orley Allen Tate (November 19, 1899 – February 9, 1979), known professionally as Allen Tate, was an American poet, essayist, social comment…

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