Jovelike, imperious, and unafraid, See how he leans upon the books of stone! These mighty limbs, these sinews were but made That he might bear his heavy task alone. Like the Philistine in his giant strength, Like to Jehovah in his wrathful eyes, he fears no sea, no tide, no journey's length, No priest of Baal, or prophet in disguise. This is not Moses. Here is no slow tongue, No meekness, nor the anguish of a cry That immemorially from the heart is wrung: "That I should do this thing, Lord, who am I?" This is the burning bush, the prophet's rod, This is no man. It is the voice of God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A GIRL'S THOUGHTS by ISAAC ROSENBERG LACHIN Y GAIR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BE DRUNK by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE SONNET ADDRESSED TO HENRY COWPER, ESQ by WILLIAM COWPER THE BLIND GIRL by NATHALIA CRANE ENVOY (1) by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE |