<2025-08-09> /03:THE CLERIC SINGS

ear scholar, o dear scholar, full of words,

Do you not see

That mystery

Revealed unto the birds

That nest and fly

And breathe and die

Yet sing while on this earth?

Dear scholar, o dear scholar, sore of thought,

The stones cry out,

Dry grasses shout,

Which knowledge can't be bought;

For it is free

And plain to see

Nor carved in precious ivory

But always is forgot.

The greatest truth, I'll tell thee,

Is the one that nearest lies,

Yet centuries of study

Will never it espy---

The dearest mystery is plain

And no one who holds on to pain

Can ever see its light.

Dear scholar, o dear scholar, life is short:

Like lightning falls

And beauty palls

And apples turn to warts.

So take not time for letters,

Store not up a hoard:

A giant corpse gives only

Vultures more to gorge.

But study this one jewel

That under all upholds,

Which innocence and experience

Teach equal to wise souls---

For you are nothing special,

And what a happy thought!

All men on earth are kings as you,

Sole heirs of all from drops of dew

To mighty kingdoms carved from rock---

And this is my one lesson:

That the common is the best.

Fair men and women, light and air,

Trees and mountains, sleep and rest.

For God is Lord of plenty

And joys to plenty give;

Who asks shall seek,

Who seeks shall find,

And there is naught

Within the mind

Of God that does not live.

O scholar, o dear scholar, take delight!

For everything

Around you sings

And shadows fade to light!

And beasts from private mythologies

Gather to sing doxologies,

And everywhere are found the keys

To a new and purer sight.

Aye, the sun is burning out---

And all the lovelier so it is!

And we abound in heavenly blessings

Even faithful Adam did not know!

Aye, life's a cairn of sorrows---

But sorrows can be our joys!

For the folly of God outshines and shatters

All the wisdom that sage men employ.

O scholar, burdened scholar, take your rest.

The great I Am

Became a lamb

So He could call you blessed.

His yoke is easy,

His burden light,

And happiness tears the veil of night;

Will you, too, take His quest?

To give offense

Will make you small;

To take offense

Will curse you;

To turn offense---

The risk of birth---

And make it into virtue

Will crown you king

Of everything

And nothing more can hurt you.

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