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The Sword of Suprise

Sunder me from my bones,

O sword of

Till they stand stark and strange as do the trees;

That I whose heart goes up with the soaring

May marvel as much at these.

Sunder me from my blood that in the darkI hear that red ancestral river

Like branching buried floods that find the

But never see the sun.

Give me miraculous eyes to see my

Those rolling mirrors made alive in

Terrible crystals more

Than all the things they

Sunder me from my soul, that I may

The sins like streaming wounds, the life's brave

Till I shall save myself as I would saveA stranger in the street.

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Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Gilbert Keith Chesterton (29 May 1874 – 14 June 1936) was an English writer, philosopher, lay theologian, and literary and art critic. He has be…

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