To conjure life into a lonely waste Of mud or ice, required a force more blind With lust and strength, than the far-seeing God We credit in the prayer-book, and yet To have added death must prove the whirl-wind kind, The tempest not a moment of black haste, Creation not a stirring in the clod— But genius, once the problem had been set, To bring it to conclusion in one sweep, And solve the subtle trick with more than sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PSALM 139 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON SONNET by DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE IN SCHOOL-DAYS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER HINDOO FUNERAL SONG by EDWIN ARNOLD OCTOBER by MARIE DAVIES WARREN BECKNER |