Not to mock us Was the spider made With the knowledge of bridge-builders In his entrails; Not for our confusion Does the silly pigeon Carry a compass in his eye, Converting in everyday flight, Space into time; The squirrel, foretelling snow, Reads a barometer More prophetic Than our own. Yet, seeing our intricate inventions Embodied in the unthinking parts Of a hairy spinner, A feathered dowager, A furry ball— Must we not peer Between the layers of mist That fold our convolutions, For meaning overwhelming, And tremble at the sight of mind revealed Where no thought is? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRE, FAMINE AND SLAUGHTER. A WAR ECLOGUE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE TEACHER by LESLIE PINCKNEY HILL THE LITTLE TURTLE by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE DEATH OF LYON by HENRY PETERSON SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 114 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1880 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |