Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FRAGMENT, by ELIZA COOK Poet's Biography First Line: Man, man, thou art too vain. Look round, and see Last Line: Too much for thy weak power to analyze. Subject(s): Vanity | ||||||||
Man, man, thou art too vain. Look round, and see Mountain o'er mountain rising, till thine eye Fail to observe the ether-circled tops, Whose every atom is a work of might And mystery as complex as thyself. Gaze on the flood of waters rolling on In strength and freshness. Billow after billow Spreading in sudden fury to contend With wind and cloud, or hushed in glossy rest, Searce ripples loud enough against the ship To lull the drowsy sea-boy to his sleep. Is there a bubble of the foamy spray, Is there one drop of the great briny world, That is not, like thyself -- a miracle? The throb that marks the current of thy blood With constant and unerring beat, is not More curious or regular in course Than the vast tides that form the ocean's pulse Cast thy proud glance upon the concave span Where suns shine out with pure eternal light, And starry myriads dwell in endless space; Where Godhead flings such flashing lustre round, That Reason shrinks before the blinding ray, While Knowledge gazes with an idiot stare Upon the illumined scroll, and owns 'tis traced In characters it cannot comprehend. Watch the mute creatures that obey thy nod -- The steed that bears thee and the hound that follows -- There shalt thou meet an instinct, hedging close Upon thy vaunted attribute of mind; An instinct so allied to human wit, That pale Reflection knows not where to set The delicate boundary of soul and sense, But wonders at the brute-embodied spirit That often mocks the claim of baser man, And shames him in his high supremacy. Philosophy and science, stand ye forth; Array your crucibles of magic flame, Unroll your parchments of long-gathered lore, And see if ye can shape with chemic craft A blade of grass, or tell us where the wind Goeth or listeth. Man, thou art too vain! Exert thy cunning brain and dexterous hand, With all the daring energy and skill That mortal loves to boast, yet wilt thou find The particle of dust thou tramplest on Too much for thy weak power to analyze. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THROUGH A GLASS EYE, LIGHTLY by CAROLYN KIZER EPITAPH: FOR A PREACHER by COUNTEE CULLEN THE FLESH AND THE SPIRIT by ANNE BRADSTREET THE TENTH MUSE: THE VANITY OF ALL WORLDLY THINGS by ANNE BRADSTREET THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB AT SAINT PRAXED'S CHURCH by ROBERT BROWNING ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON AGING: ON THE VANITY OF EARTHLY GREATNESS by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE SPIDER AND THE FLY by MARY HOWITT |
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