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...EVENEN IN THE VILLAGE by WILLIAM BARNES LET ALL THE EARTH KEEP SILENCE by LUCY A. K. ADEE MADISON CAWEIN by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 77. AL-MUTAHALI by EDWIN ARNOLD RED TREASURE by CAROLYN AUSTIN JERUSALEM; THE EMANATION OF THE GIANT ALBION: CHAPTER 1 by WILLIAM BLAKE |