This body is my house—it is not I: Herein I sojourn till, in some far sky, I lease a fairer dwelling, built to last Till all the carpentry of time is past. When from my high place viewing this lone star, What shall I care where these poor timbers are? What though the crumbling walls turn dust and loam— I shall have left them for a larger home! What though the rafters break, the stanchions rot, When earth hath dwindled to a glimmering spot! When thou, clay cottage, fallest, I'll immerse My long-cramped spirit in the universe. Through uncomputed silences of space I shall yearn upward to the leaning Face. The ancient heavens will roll aside for me, As Moses monarch's the dividing sea. This body is my house—it is not I; Triumphant in this faith I live, and die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VOICELESS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES OVER THE RIVER by NANCY WOODBURY PRIEST THE RABBIT by ELIZABETH MADOX ROBERTS THE EBB AND FLOW by EDWARD TAYLOR NOVEMBER, 1806 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE BROOK: WINTER by LAURA ABELL TWENTY BLOCKS by EGMONT HEGEL ARENS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 7. AL-MAUMIN by EDWIN ARNOLD LINES TO MR. WYNCH ON HIS FORTH-FIFTH BIRTHDAY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |