Studies in Poetry Revision (poem) by Alan D Busch on AuthorsDen

Studies in Poetry Revision
by Alan D Busch → (All Poetry by Alan D Busch)
Rated "G" by the Author.

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Dear Readers, This took some doing, but here I present two versions of a poem: the older version in black; the revision in red. Please read both and decide which reads better in terms of rythem. Please write a short review telling me if you like this format and which version you prefer. Note that while some stanzas have been revised, others have not.
"Up Heaven's Slope: Dedicated to Our "Kedoshim" Why wrenched from hearth and home, o'er hills and fields whence they came? Dreaming dreams didst they freely roam, awakened to morning cold and lame. Why wrenched from hearth and home, o'er hills and fields whence they came? Dreaming dreams didst they freely roam, awakened to morning cold and lame. Wearily trod up heaven's slope gray figures stooped, transparently thin, recalling life from days before … while awaiting storms of Heavenly din. Wearily trod up heaven's slope, their figures stooped,transparently thin, anguished lives as none others before why tarry the storms of Heavenly din? Unlike Goliath in battle fell, a travail, cold and dark, did numb that David who had fought so well would soon that night succumb. Much like Goliath who in battle fell, a travail, cold and dark, did numb that even David who had fought so well would soon that night succumb. Prayerful hopes shoes be found for souls bereft and torn, a moment to rest, a breath to breathe for spirits dulled and worn. Prayerful hopes shoes be found for souls bereft and torn. If only a moment, a breath to breathe for spirits dulled and worn. Should not there have been one for whom faith steadfast but rare, that his would be ennobled by Thee to seek his just and fair? Should there not have been at least the one for whom faith steadfast but rare, that his would be ennobled by Thee to seek his just and fair? Who glimpsed the light but touched him not whose spark had begun to wane next day ere long gathered clouds again for fewer who remain. Who glimpsed the light but touched him not, whose spark had begun to wane. Next day ere long gathered clouds again for fewer who remain. Bowed under lash by day, by night a storm did rage. Why had He not shown His way a war He could have waged? Bowed under Pharoah's lash by day, by night a storm did rage. Why had He not shown the way a war He could have waged? Aside bodies on planks they lie precious heat what little remain. Dreaded welcome soon might bring next to whom they had just lain. Aside bodies on planks they lie, precious heat what little remain. Dreaded welcome soon might bring, next to whom they had just lain. Still in death's kingdom shone a light, a way, the day when dawn’s rising would fewer eyes see whose faith did them sustain. Still in death's kingdom shone a light, a way, the day when dawn’s rise would fewer eyes see whose faith did them sustain. The world we choose points us down paths long sought by peace, in the gardens of which we plant the seeds lest memories tragically cease. The world we choose points us down paths long sought by peace, in rose gardens when we plant the seeds lest memories tragically cease.