 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
GENIUS.
How is Man's mind built up? A palace now,With half-angelic occupants; a shrine
Where God might almost deign to say, 'Tis Mine;—
And now a hell, where foul fiends mop and mow.
Some reap where others went before to plough;
Some only glean, not knowing Mine from Thine;
A far-off soul some quickens, as may shine
Some far-off star, lighting we know not how,—
A father, mother, grandsire, a soul
Before the Flood, a nation's Composite,
May fashion one to act heroic rôle,
Like Briareus with hundred-handed might:
Another, Argus-eyed in brain, this Whole
To read, whom God bids say, Let there be Light!
| Stones from The Quarry | |