In the hall <br />Where floor boards creak <br />Through the tall doors <br />From the Street <br />A shaft of golden light <br />Is strung <br />With the dust of ages hung <br /> <br />Though nothing in the air is seen <br />There <br />Within this golden beam <br />There <br />The dust of ages hung <br />Moving slowly <br />In the sun <br /> <br />So it is <br />In our daydream <br />Not all that is <br />Is always seen <br />Sometimes it takes <br />A shadows line <br />To let the golden light <br />Define <br />All there is to see <br />More ways than one <br />Like the dust of ages <br />Hung<br /><br />Egal Bohen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/with-the-dust-of-ages-hung/
