To conjure life into a lonely waste Of mud or ice, required a force more blind With lust and strength, than the far-seeing God We credit in the prayer-book, and yet To have added death must prove the whirl-wind kind, The tempest not a moment of black haste, Creation not a stirring in the clod But genius, once the problem had been set, To bring it to conclusion in one sweep, And solve the subtle trick with more than sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ATHENIAN GARDEN by TRUMBULL STICKNEY DARBY AND JOAN by FREDERIC EDWARD WEATHERLY ON BEING BROUGHT FROM AFRICA TO AMERICA by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 5. THE CHANGELING by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 1. THE MARVELLOUS SEED OF LOVE by PHILIP AYRES LINES ON THE COTTAGE AT THE FOOT OF BOX HILL, SURREY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |