THE soul of man is larger than the sky, Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark Of the unfathomed centre. Like that ark, Which in its sacred hold uplifted high, O'er the drowned hills, the human family, And stock reserved of every living kind, So, in the compass of the single mind, The seeds and pregnant forms in essence lie, That make all worlds. Great poet, 't was thy art To know thyself, and in thyself to be Whate'er love, hate, ambition, destiny, Or the firm fatal purpose of the heart Can make of man. Yet thou wert still the same, Serene of thought, unhurt by thy own flame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEGY: 18. LOVES PROGRESS by JOHN DONNE TASTING THE EARTH by JAMES OPPENHEIM TENNYSON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LINES TO ROBERT ALDERSON UPON HIS DEPARTURE FROM WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD VERSES ON SEEING IN AN ALBUM A SKETCH OF AN OLD GATEWAY by BERNARD BARTON PSALM 128 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |