FROM JOB A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld The face of immortality unveil'd -- Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine -- And there it stood, -- all formless -- but divine: Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake; And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it spake: 'Is man more just than God? Is man more pure Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure? Creatures of clay -- vain dwellers in the dust! The moth survives you, and are ye more just? Things of a day! you wither ere the night, Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THREE SPRING NOTATIONS ON BIPEDS by CARL SANDBURG BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES by FRANCOIS VILLON THE DEATH OF GRANT by AMBROSE BIERCE A PROPHECY by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TOMORROW by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO THE LATTICE AT SUNRISE by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER |