 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
75
I AM SMALL AND OF NO REPUTATION; YET DO I NOT FORGET THY COMMANDMENTS
How small a thing am I, of no repute,
Whirled in the rush of these eternal tides;
Spun daily round upon this orb that rides
Among its peers, itself how most minute!
Whirled in the rush of these eternal tides;
Spun daily round upon this orb that rides
Among its peers, itself how most minute!
Yet as I muse in sad comparison,
Restless and frail, I thrill with sudden awe,
Clasped in the large embrace of life and law
That, howsoe'er I falter, bear me on.
Restless and frail, I thrill with sudden awe,
Clasped in the large embrace of life and law
That, howsoe'er I falter, bear me on.
So should a drop within the sluggish vein
Of some vast saurian—that slumbers deep
In seas undreamed of, rolling through the swell—
In labyrinthine artery swim and creep,
Yet hear far off, again and yet again,
The vasty heart beat in his central cell.
Of some vast saurian—that slumbers deep
In seas undreamed of, rolling through the swell—
In labyrinthine artery swim and creep,
Yet hear far off, again and yet again,
The vasty heart beat in his central cell.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |