“And Comfort Comes”
And comfort comes from stations washed ashore on the bank
Of all great seas and rivers, benchmarks, watersheds
And monuments as seiemic shifts in zeitgeists; glories led
By strange humility in masters whose histories are drawn blank
With whom generations cavil and who provoke
In lesser moments no more than leaner age affords,
The more prosaïc goals framed to ward
Off national malaise. They must evoke
A wonder in the people, and awe
Amongst the gods, and in the end, such light
Cannot be masked, nor can the transitory might
Of kings suppress but single eagles, neither nets nor censors, nor the law.
And here, then, is Shakespeare, Father of the modern text…
And what of tongues that roar so loud and thunder in the index?
“3:23 Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in? 3:24 For my sighing cometh before I eat, and my roarings are poured out like the waters.
King James Bible, Job