His body bears its purpose plain As if the centuries designed That shape to fit as cunningly As destiny upon the mind. The little skull's a polished plate Of seamless armor deftly set Above implicit impulse to defy; And here's perfection strangely met In repetition of each eye. Yet written for a deeper sight, The paired antennae's curving arc Describes a figure on the air Like revelation's cryptic mark. He weighs his life in counterpoise; So shaped by motive every part, Its true proportion just fulfills Those secret measures of the heart. How should he guess at consequence Past any need involved? His realm of magnitude is will; Finality for him is solved When that projectile wing is still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW THE BATTLE-CRY OF FREEDOM by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT A PENNY'S WORTH OF POESY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS MISTS by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG |