Stones from The Quarry | ||
PRIDE.
I am not proud: I have looked on the seaIn calm sublime, and felt its grand rebuke,
As if God in His shadow thence did look!
In storm, rebuking with dread majestie
Man's impotence; vain shadows his and he!
I have looked on the stars, till I could brook
No longer their dread silence, like the book
Of Fate, strange hieroglyphics with no key!
From heaven, as gently as Love plucks a flower,
I've seen the sun withdrawn, and seem to cease:
Man, shaken like a reed, in anguished hour;
Crush'd moth! surrendering to Death Life's lease!
Humbler than threshold of the temple-door
My soul is, when God passes through in these!
Stones from The Quarry | ||