Nature, with endless being rife, Parts each thing into 'him' and 'her,' And, in the arithmetic of life, The smallest unit is a pair; And thus, oh, strange, sweet half of me, If I confess a loftier flame, If more I love high Heaven than thee, I more than love thee, thee I am; And, if the world's not built of lies, Nor all a cheat the Gospel tells, If that which from the dead shall rise Be I indeed, not something else, There's no position more secure In reason or in faith than this, That those conditions must endure, Which, wanting, I myself should miss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ATELIER CEZANNE by CLARENCE MAJOR HORACE TO LEUCONOE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THEME IN YELLOW by CARL SANDBURG THE FIRST VOYAGE OF JOHN CABOT [1497] by KATHARINE LEE BATES 1914: 2. SAFETY by RUPERT BROOKE CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYING by ROBERT HERRICK |