 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
60
THE DEEPS OF GOD
O Truth! how vast thy empire, how immense,
Lost in thy gracious nearness, we forget;
Our narrow bounds we strenuously set
About us, too intent to wander thence:
Lost in thy gracious nearness, we forget;
Our narrow bounds we strenuously set
About us, too intent to wander thence:
We dream of majesty and innocence
Among a thousand trivial mockeries,
Till some high deed soars up, and draws the eyes
Aloft, and lightens the bewildered sense.
Among a thousand trivial mockeries,
Till some high deed soars up, and draws the eyes
Aloft, and lightens the bewildered sense.
So when we creep beneath the lowering skies,
The lonely hern above the marshland sails
High overhead, slow flapping down the wind;
And all at once the grey veil seems to rise
And tower, and as the lowlit evening pales,
The illimitable cloudland looms behind.
The lonely hern above the marshland sails
High overhead, slow flapping down the wind;
And all at once the grey veil seems to rise
And tower, and as the lowlit evening pales,
The illimitable cloudland looms behind.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |