Tuesday, October 01, 2013

Poem a Day 1

Regina Omnium Vitiorum

The mountain rises high with ice, so high
the air grows thin, the sun grows clear, so bright,
all else seems nothing, tiny gnat or fly;
the splendor, clarity of soaring bursts of light
seems truth itself; it crowns the peaks of white.
The glory radiates! It does not hide!
Of course: for such is Lucifer in pride.

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