FROM JOB A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld The face of immortality unveil'd -- Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine -- And there it stood, -- all formless -- but divine: Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake; And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it spake: 'Is man more just than God? Is man more pure Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure? Creatures of clay -- vain dwellers in the dust! The moth survives you, and are ye more just? Things of a day! you wither ere the night, Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO CHLOE WHO FOR HIS SAKE WISHED HERSELF YOUNGER by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT OLD FOLKS AT HOME by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER AT THE SHRINE by RICHARD KENDALL MUNKITTRICK SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 105 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI JUNE BRACKEN AND HEATHER by ALFRED TENNYSON JOHANNES MILTON, SENEX by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES DARTMOOR: SUNSET AT CHAGFORD: RESPONDENT DHMIOURGOS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |