HOW like a second nature to our souls Is immortality. 'Tis not of earth, But comes a ray from heaven, that unfolds The budding instinct of another birth. Who from the void can make a man but God? And if God make him, shall He then ordain That, having breathed upon the senseless clod, Back to the void shall turn His work again? Through endless time no more nor yet no less Than making man for woe and wretchedness? Away the thought! The deathless Deed that springs From out its dust-encumbered home of clay, And, like a beam of morning, folds its wings Only 'mid the twilight of a perfect day— This cannot die! 'Tis part of God himself, A heart-throb of Infinity! The Thought that spans the arch of silent stars, Scaling the rugged battlements, where rise The roof above time's own grim prison bars— Searching beneath the shadows of eternal skies For captive Truth—this cannot die! 'Tis God's own child Exiled to earth, now seeking home again! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE OF THE LEAST OF THESE, MY LITTLE ONE' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GOSSAMER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LOVE'S TENDRILS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 1 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH HOLES BORED IN A WORKBAG BY THE SCISSORS by MARIANNE MOORE YOU ARE FIRE EATERS by MARIANNE MOORE SURFACE AND STRUCTURE: BONAVENTURE HOTEL, LOS ANGELES by KAREN SWENSON |