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Advent, the Seventh Day: Glenfarclas (10 Year Old)

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Confitebor tibi in cithara…

Salvation’s army bands together ditties
By winding out its brass and sounding off
A penny tin. Its trumping drum entreaties
The saints in choirs large and loud enough
To tattoo tunes with horn and pipe – like rivers
Of earth that course through heavenly endeavors.
So, running gold, the salmon-studded Spey
Now flows into this Advent’s seventh day
From Glenfarclas – where vernal vales are ringing
The bladed cadences that sound the chant
Like wind that combs the grass: all tongues are bent
To sing, all silent hearts are thronged with longing:
Forever meets with infant flesh and spills
A cry that troops the everlasting hills.

Comments

  1. Broderick Barker says:

    Yeah, but is it any good?
    Nice picture, by the by.
    And an interesting use of “troops.”

  2. “All tongues are bent/To sing” – that about says it all.

    But yes smooth with nice fiery undertones.

    JOB

  3. Lansing Priest says:

    Pardon my ignorance, what’s the connection to Salvation army?

  4. Quin Finnegan says:

    Nice. “Like wind that combs the grass,” indeed.

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