THEY think me daft, who nightly meet My face turned starward, while my feet Stumble along the unseen street; But should man's thoughts have only room For Earth, his cradle and his tomb, Not for his Temple's grander gloom? And must the prisoner all his days Learn but his dungeon's narrow ways And never through its grating gaze? Then let me linger in your sight, My only amaranths! blossoming bright As over Eden's cloudless night. The same vast belt, and square, and crown, That on the Deluge glittered down, And lit the roofs of Bethlehem town! Ye make me one with all my race, A victor over time and space, Till all the path of men I pace. Far-speeding backward in my brain We build the Pyramids again, And Babel rises from the plain; And climbing upward on your beams I peer within the Patriarchs' dreams, Till the deep sky with angels teems. My Comforters! -- Yea, why not mine? The power that kindled you doth shine, In man, a mastery divine; That Love which throbs in every star, And quickens all the worlds afar, Beats warmer where his children are. The shadow of the wings of Death Broods over us; we feel his breath: "Resurgam" still the spirit saith. These tired feet, this weary brain, Blotted with many a mortal stain, May crumble earthward -- not in vain. With swifter feet that shall not tire, Eyes that shall fail not at your fire Nearer your splendors I aspire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNWELCOME by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE TO DOCTOR EMPIRIC by BEN JONSON THE HARVEST MOON; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BEING RETIRED, COMPLAINS AGAINST THE COURT by PHILIP AYRES THE IVORY GATE; THRENODY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE ANGRY ONES by BERTON BRALEY |