THOU Nature's step here treadest in, Dost show us but thy soul's fair skin, What Fancy more than intellect did spin. Thus Nature shows the rose's paint; Us with the outside doth acquaint, But keeps reserv'd the soul of the fair plant. Thy sails all see swelling with haste; Yet the hid ballast steers as fast His steady course, as the apparent mast. For though carv'd works only appear, We know there is a basis here, Doth them together with the fabric bear; And that thy lightning intellect, Though in the clouds yet undetect, Can Nature's bowels pierce with its aspect. Melting through stubborn doubts his way, Whilst Fancy gilds things with her ray, And but o' th' surface doth of Nature play. But whilst thy intellect doth wear The Fancy's dress, his motions are In Epicycles not his proper sphere. Break forth, and let his double sign In their own orbs distinctly shine; Castor alone bodes danger to the pine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY BEFORE BANNOCKBURN by ROBERT BURNS BREAKFAST by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON A REMEMBERED FACE by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG THE BALLAD OF BAZILE BORGNE by IDA COLE BARTLATT APPLE-BLOSSOM by MATHILDE BLIND IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: DEEDS MIGHT HAVE BEEN by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 10 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |