A Reason and A Poem

My apologies for not posting anything lately as I have been tied up with some house projects as well as writing a fairly lengthy paper for a class that I’m currently taking.  However, as I was doing some research for my paper, I stumbled across an interesting piece of knowledge that I did not know before: that G.K. Chesterton composed poetry.  Needless to say, I had to seek out some of his compositions, and here I share with you one of his compositions.

A Marriage Song

Why should we reck of hours that rend
       While we two ride together?
     The heavens rent from end to end
       Would be but windy weather,
     The strong stars shaken down in spate
       Would be a shower of spring,
     And we should list the trump of fate
       And hear a linnet sing.

     We break the line with stroke and luck,
       The arrows run like rain,
     If you be struck, or I be struck,
       There's one to strike again.
     If you befriend, or I befriend,
       The strength is in us twain,
     And good things end and bad things end,
       And you and I remain.

     Why should we reck of ill or well
       While we two ride together?
     The fires that over Sodom fell
       Would be but sultry weather.
     Beyond all ends to all men given
       Our race is far and fell,
     We shall but wash our feet in heaven,
       And warm our hands in hell.

     Battles unborn and vast shall view
       Our faltered standards stream,
     New friends shall come and frenzies new.
       New troubles toil and teem;
     New friends shall pass and still renew
       One truth that does not seem,
     That I am I, and you are you,
       And Death a morning dream.

     Why should we reck of scorn or praise
       While we two ride together?
     The icy air of godless days
       Shall be but wintry weather.
     If hell were highest, if the heaven
       Were blue with devils blue,
     I should have guessed that all was even,
       If I had dreamed of you.

     Little I reck of empty prides,
       Of creeds more cold than clay;
     To nobler ends and longer rides,
       My lady rides to-day.
     To swing our swords and take our sides
       In that all-ending fray
     When stars fall down and darkness hides,
       When God shall turn to bay.

     Why should we reck of grin and groan
       While we two ride together?
     The triple thunders of the throne
       Would be but stormy weather.
     For us the last great fight shall roar,
       Upon the ultimate plains,
     And we shall turn and tell once more
       Our love in English lanes.

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