Of all the souls that stand create I have elected one. When sense from spirit files away, And subterfuge is done; When that which is and that which was Apart, intrinsic, stand, And this brief tragedy of flesh Is shifted like a sand; When figures show their royal front And mists are carved away, -- Behold the atom I preferred To all the lists of clay! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISDAIN RETURNED by THOMAS CAREW EPIGRAM: A LAME BEGGAR by JOHN DONNE FOR CHARLIE'S SAKE by JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER OUR MODEST DOUGHBOYS by CHARLTON ANDREWS TO A FRIEND by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE 'MONSTRE' BALLOON by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM MY FLOWERS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER AN EPILOGUE TO THE STEALING OF DIONYSOS: IACHOS SPEAKING by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |