This corpuscle that from my heart Runs to and fro and to and fro Can never guess by any art His avenue is my blood's flow, And all his personality A part, diminutive, of me. Nor does the sun that troubles but One drop of heaven with his glare Conceive his ancient golden rut To be a sheep-path down the air Traced out for him in ages flown By herded stars to him unknown. And I -- in whose celestial veins Ichored with lightning runs my course, Despite my hand upon the reins Fixed as the sun's by that dread force That thinks a thought and dreams a dream Betrayed to us but by some gleam, Some momentary pang of light Winging the cavern where we grope, That crucifies us with delight And breaks our hearts with splendid hope -- Seeing, although we cannot see, Eternal Mind's activity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BARBARA FRIETCHIE [SEPTEMBER 13, 1862] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THIS IS NOT I by FRANCES DAVIS ADAMS MARY MAGDALEN by BARTOLOME LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA THE OLD TRAMP by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE TREE TOAD by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD ANCESTORS by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS |