Thus would I question the unwearying One Who gave exhaustless vigor to the sea, Ordained the ceaseless journey of the sun, And bade the stars flame to eternity: Why, when from clay He brought us with a breath Did He give sleep -- since we shall soon know death? Why did He limit so our might? Even the youthful, lithe Olympian Who runs from dawn till night Must like the feeblest man, Between the opiate dusk and trumpet morn, To slumber's Lethe come, for strength reborn. Is it that when the outward form is still -- Calm the tense limbs and quiet the curious senses -- The inmost spirit, the aspiring will That shuns the day's vainglorious pretenses, May then from prison walls of flesh go free To venture the veiled steeps of destiny? Is it that when the harried soul has peace -- Shut out the garish world's distracting gleam; When strife and toil and tribulations cease, That then the spirit, searching realms of dream, Discerns what to the flesh is fugitive? Do we in slumber more sublimely live? Did the Lord God give mortals weariness, And star-bejewelled darkness for a cover, That from our clay the spiritual may press To heights where grandeur waits and angels hover? Do eyelids close to open that vague portal Which lifts between the earthy and immortal? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THERE WAS A GARDEN by MARIE BARTON THE KNIGHT OF THE BURNING PESTLE by FRANCIS BEAUMONT PSALM 23. DOMINUS REGIT ME by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE TINY HAT UPON THE BROW by LEVI BISHOP BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 2. THE SECOND SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |