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An excerpt from __Mass for the Day of St. Thomas Didymus__ //Denise Levertov// ii Gloria Praise the wet snow falling early. Praise the shadow my neighbor's chimney casts on the tile roof even this gray October day that should, they say, have been golden. Praise the invisible sun burning beyond the white cold sky, giving us light and the chimney's shadow. Praise god or the gods, the unknown, that which imagined us, which stays our hand, our murderous hand, and gives us still, in the shadow of death our daily life, and the dream still of goodwill, of peace on earth. Praise flow and change, night and the pulse of day.

An excerpt from __I Think Continually Of Those Who Were Truly Great__ //Stephen Spender//

I think continually of those who were truly great. Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history Through corridors of light where the hours are suns Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition Was that their lips, still touched with fire, Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song. And who hoarded from the Spring branches The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.

(Top right picture) Robert Mapplethorpe //Ken Moody//, 1984

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