MYSTERIOUS Nothing! how shall I define Thy shapeless, baseless, placeless emptiness? Nor form, nor colour, sound, nor size is thine, Nor words nor fingers can thy voice express; But though we cannot thee to aught compare, A thousand things to thee may likened be, And though thou art with nobody nowhere, Yet half mankind devote themselves to thee. How many books thy history contain; How many heads thy mighty plans pursue; What labouring hands thy portion only gain; What busy bodies thy doings only do! To thee the great, the proud, the giddy bend, And -- like my sonnet -- all in nothing end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOREST FLOWERS by ROBERT FROST DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LITTLE SON by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL |