A LOCK of hair to good Spinoza's manes! The Spirit of the world infused his own; He saw the boundless universe instinct With love, and yet, alas! he dwelt alone. Filled with divine and happy thought, his mind Took little heed of human praise or blame; Disciples he had none, yet deathless glory Crowned with her laurel his immortal name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I MAY, I MIGHT, I MUST by MARIANNE MOORE LETTER TO JOSEPH WARREN by ROBERT FROST MATERNITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PROSIT NEUJAHR by GEORGE SANTAYANA ELEGY: THE LAMENT OF EDWARD BLASTOCK; FOR RICHARD ROWLEY by EDITH SITWELL I AM BORNE ONWARD by SARA TEASDALE |