This grain of life, this tiny beast of dew Climbing the grass, transparent, hardly won From vegetable growth to sight and sense, Is far too small, too new To touch, save in his movement to the sun, A man's experience. His appetites, his frenzy, zeal and sin Are mysteries too invisible to guess; And yet, since on the grass he dares mount up, I hazard of his life this one surmise And claim him kin— Such as he is, there is a fear to press His vitals, measured to the hair, Agony that shall fill him like a cup, As much as he can bear, Pain fitted to his size. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOING FOR WATER by ROBERT FROST THE PASSOVER IN THE HOLY FAMILY (FOR A DRAWING) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE GENTLE CHECK by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE PIONEER'S FIELD by RICHARD BECK YESTERDAY by RUTH LASHORNE BUNDY LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON STOCK AND VERMONT PUNKINS by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY FOUR SONGS BY WAY OF CHORUS TO A PLAY: 2. FEMININE HONOURS by THOMAS CAREW |