To be at all -- what is better than that? I think if there were nothing more developed, the clam in its callous shell in the sand were august enough. I am not in any callous shell; I am cased with supple conductors, all over, They take every object by the hand, and lead it within me; They are thousands, each one with his entry to himself; They are always watching with their little eyes, from my head to my feet; One no more than a point lets in and out of me such bliss and magnitude, I think I could lift the girder of the house away if it lay between me and whatever I wanted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FUCHSIA HEDGES IN CONNACHT by PADRAIC COLUM PASSION AND LOVE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE MOTHER IN THE HOUSE by HERMANN HAGEDORN TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON by RICHARD LOVELACE OVERTONES by WILLIAM ALEXANDER PERCY |