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Blackberries

by William Allingham
 
 

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[We hate thee, solemn Public Liar]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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[We hate thee, solemn Public Liar]

We hate thee, solemn Public Liar,
Who all men's reverence dost require.
We know thine ancient mystery
Hath now become a tatter'd lie,
Dishonouring the Power Divine
That in our Human Soul doth shine.
Man's highest thought thou dost withdraw
From building on true natural law
His joy and worship, love and awe,
Training and forcing it to fix
On foolish mental juggling-tricks;
Hoping a tawdry Heav'n to gain
By gambling and by legerdemain.