 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
228
THE GREAT EXHIBITION.
Yet was it an unsatisfying meal,A poor dry pittance to the Souls of men
That long for spiritual food, and then
Only are feasted, when they love and feel!
No more than so; a this-world's commonweal,
Triumphant Matter rang'd from pole to pole;
And our Valhalla, to High Wisdom's ken,
Had not one drop of balm the heart to heal,
One ray of peace the conscience to console!
Oh! Man needs more than merchandise, to make
His better nature quicken, and unseal
His eyes, from sinful slumber that they wake:
He thirsts for Thoughts, he starves on thirsty Things,
He spurns this grovelling Earth, and yearns for Wings!
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |