They sat together round a table
As decent folk lay in bed
So that they might be able
To converse with the dead.
Spirits came, they told, when called
To cross the great divide
And others sat enthralled
As some spoke to loved ones who died.
Such by all faiths is forbidden
Called by all a sin
For Evil in the dark arts is hidden
But is found deep within
And the séance is a Trojan horse, a gift
And they should be left so when in peace
Like a flea on a dog, it lives a lift
And so to Evil gives release.
Thus inspired by spirits found
At such séances at night
Yeats, with pen and paper found
New inspiration for imaginations flight.
Why did not he do so as I
And other normal men
Take time out to see the sky
Or turn to church again?
The Holy Ghost is a spirit to seek
Its message is pure and true
The Word of God is what it does speak
Of its word you can be sure
Though not often, and in church twice as rare
My thoughts t such turn for a while
I find peace and inspiration in prayer
And start to write with a smile…
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