Heaven
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
<font face="curlz mt" color="sky blue">
<center>
<p> HEAVEN </p>
<p> Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, </p>
<p> Dawdling away their wat'ry noon) </p>
<p> Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, </p>
<p> Each secret fishy hope or fear. </p>
<p> Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond; </p>
<p> But is there anything Beyond? </p>
<p> This life cannot be All, they swear, </p>
<p> For how unpleasant, if it were! </p>
<p> One may not doubt that, somehow, Good </p>
<p> Shall come of Water and of Mud </p>
<p> And, sure, the reverent eye must see </p>
<p> A purpose in liquidity. </p>
<p> We darkly know, by faith we cry, </p>
<p> The future is not Wholly Dry. </p>
<p> Mud unto mud!-Death eddies dear- </p>
<p> Not here the appointed End, not here! </p>
<p> But somewhere beyond Space and Time, </p>
<p> Is wetter water, slimier slime! </p>
<p> And there (they trust) there swimmeth One </p>
<p> Who swam ere rivers were begun, </p>
<p> Immense, of fishy form and mind, </p>
<p> Squamous, omnipotent, and kind; </p>
<p> And under that Almighty Fin, </p>
<p> The littlest fish may enter in. </p>
<p> Oh! never fly conceals a hook, </p>
<p> Fish say, in the eternal Brook, </p>
<p> But more than mundane weeks are there, </p>
<p> And mud, celestially fair; </p>
<p> Fat caterpillars drift around, </p>
<p> And Paradisal grubs are found; </p>
<p> Unfading moths, immortal flies, </p>
<p> And the worm that never dies. </p>
<p> And in that Heaven of all their wish, </p>
<p> There shall be no more land, say fish. </p></center>
<p> - Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915)</P>
<p> you think this is blasphemous? it's certainly original!</p>
<center>
<p> HEAVEN </p>
<p> Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, </p>
<p> Dawdling away their wat'ry noon) </p>
<p> Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, </p>
<p> Each secret fishy hope or fear. </p>
<p> Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond; </p>
<p> But is there anything Beyond? </p>
<p> This life cannot be All, they swear, </p>
<p> For how unpleasant, if it were! </p>
<p> One may not doubt that, somehow, Good </p>
<p> Shall come of Water and of Mud </p>
<p> And, sure, the reverent eye must see </p>
<p> A purpose in liquidity. </p>
<p> We darkly know, by faith we cry, </p>
<p> The future is not Wholly Dry. </p>
<p> Mud unto mud!-Death eddies dear- </p>
<p> Not here the appointed End, not here! </p>
<p> But somewhere beyond Space and Time, </p>
<p> Is wetter water, slimier slime! </p>
<p> And there (they trust) there swimmeth One </p>
<p> Who swam ere rivers were begun, </p>
<p> Immense, of fishy form and mind, </p>
<p> Squamous, omnipotent, and kind; </p>
<p> And under that Almighty Fin, </p>
<p> The littlest fish may enter in. </p>
<p> Oh! never fly conceals a hook, </p>
<p> Fish say, in the eternal Brook, </p>
<p> But more than mundane weeks are there, </p>
<p> And mud, celestially fair; </p>
<p> Fat caterpillars drift around, </p>
<p> And Paradisal grubs are found; </p>
<p> Unfading moths, immortal flies, </p>
<p> And the worm that never dies. </p>
<p> And in that Heaven of all their wish, </p>
<p> There shall be no more land, say fish. </p></center>
<p> - Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915)</P>
<p> you think this is blasphemous? it's certainly original!</p>
