THOU Nature's step here treadest in, Dost show us but thy soul's fair skin, What Fancy more than intellect did spin. Thus Nature shows the rose's paint; Us with the outside doth acquaint, But keeps reserv'd the soul of the fair plant. Thy sails all see swelling with haste; Yet the hid ballast steers as fast His steady course, as the apparent mast. For though carv'd works only appear, We know there is a basis here, Doth them together with the fabric bear; And that thy lightning intellect, Though in the clouds yet undetect, Can Nature's bowels pierce with its aspect. Melting through stubborn doubts his way, Whilst Fancy gilds things with her ray, And but o' th' surface doth of Nature play. But whilst thy intellect doth wear The Fancy's dress, his motions are In Epicycles not his proper sphere. Break forth, and let his double sign In their own orbs distinctly shine; Castor alone bodes danger to the pine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MR. S.T. COLERIDGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE LAND OF DREAMS by WILLIAM BLAKE EPISTLE TO JOHN LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD by ROBERT BURNS GOOD AND BAD LUCK by HEINRICH HEINE TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MEADOW-SAFFRON by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE AT ONE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |