Charles G. Dennison

By the East

his cloud from deathless power

holds hands close to the breast;

the man there peers out

on the field

planted by God.


Dust made of nothing,

breath to life awakes one

who does not forget

clinging to the arm of God—

glory circumscribed,

not him but like him,

for his pleasure.


Eyes dancing

see inside the parade

where he names

every breathing thing,

while the light to him replies—

not him,

for his pleasure needs supply.


Dusk of mind,

weighty minutes

settle in—

wrap me as with winding cloths.

What dreams

force open my side;

white pearl bone greets the sun—




formed strangely like me

and different unknown

until sleep cowers.


Eyes dancing—


seeing her from my soul

and nothing can ever be the same.

I cannot forget her

clinging to my arm,

answering me—

my glory circumscribed,

not me,

for my pleasure.