We thrill too strangely at the master's touch; We shrink too sadly from the larger self Which for its own completeness agitates And undertermines us; we do not feel -- We dare not feel it yet -- the splendid shame Of uncreated failure; we forget, The while we groan, that God's accomplishment Is always and unfailingly at hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FANCY FROM FONTENELLE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE MAIZE by WILLIAM WHITEMAN FOSDICK THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 12 by OMAR KHAYYAM ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY HENRY HUDSON'S QUEST [1609] by BURTON EGBERT STEVENSON ON THE ENGINE AGAIN by ALEXANDER ANDERSON POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE by JOANNA BAILLIE SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 33. RED DAWN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |