Thomas Kinkade London At Sunset

Thomas Kinkade London At SunsetThomas Kinkade Hometown PrideThomas Kinkade HOMETOWN EVENING
The morning comes, the night decays, the watchmen leave their stations;
The grave is burst, the spices shed, the linen wrapped up;
The bones of death, the cov'ring clay, the sinews shrunk & dry'd
Reviving shake, inspiring move, breathing, awakening,
Spring like redeemed captives when their bonds & bars are burst.
Let the slave grinding at the mill run out into the field,
Let him look up into the heavens & laugh in the bright air;
Let the inchained soul, shut up in darkness and in sighing,
Whose face has never seen a smile in thirty weary years,
Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are open;
And let his wife and children return from the oppressor's scourge.
They look behind at every step & believe it is a dream,
Singing: "The Sun has left his blackness & has found a fresher morning,
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear & cloudless night;
For Pounding down the living. The factories are all lit up,
The chime goes unheard.
We are together at last, though far apart.Empire is no more, and now the Lion & Wolf shall cease." -from "America: A Prophecy" by William Blake O stars,isn't it from you that the lover's desire for the face of his beloved arises? Doesn't his secret insight into her pure features come from the pure constellations? -from "The Third Elegy" by Rainer Maria Rilke Fine vapors escape from whatever is doing the living. The night is cold and delicate and full of angels
-from "The Ecclesiast" by John Ashbery