O fragil’ dawnlit chorus—
Avert my eastward gaze
From that morning star aways,
As so to not implore us

Into soft aglown temptation—
Planting sly a seed
To ignore ingrainèd need
For so oft ungrown redemption.

And flown seaward the shoal—
The assurèd eventide
In whom true light does glide
Through eyes of purest soul.

© Joseph Chin
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