I KNOW the splendor of the Sun, And beauty in the leaves, and moss, and grass; I love the birds' small voices every one, And all the hours have kindness as they pass; But still the heart can apprehend A deeper purport than the brain may know: I see it at the dying daylight's end, And hear it when the winds begin to blow. It strives to speak from all the world, Out of dumb earth, and moaning ocean-tides; And brooding Night, beneath her pinions furled, Some message writ in starry cipher hides. Must I go seeking everywhere The meanings that behind our objects be -- A depth serener in the azure air, A something more than peace upon the sea? Not one least deed one soul to bless? Unto the stern-eyed Future shall I bear Only the sense of pain without redress, Self-sickness, and a dull and stale despair? Nay, let me shape, in patience slow, My years, like the Holy Child his bird of clay, Till suddenly the clod its Master know, And thrill with life, and soar with songs away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FREEDOM AND LOVE by THOMAS CAMPBELL GREEK ARCHITECTURE by HERMAN MELVILLE PROVINCIA DESERTA by EZRA POUND PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 56 by EDWARD TAYLOR TO A SNOWFLAKE by FRANCIS THOMPSON |