O singular perception of the light Which churns on high and burns oblivion, Quite high enough or low to keep in sight Each bit of life before its breath is gone; Impersonal between the wrong and right, Detecting even what they hide who run Their dungeons deep and bury, fastened tight, Some man who dared the freedom of the sun: For then it runs a splinter down a hole, Some mouse, perhaps, once had the teeth to gnaw, And indicates the solitary soul, Who dreams that light might yet prevail as law -- Who ponders on the love that light distills Whose merest drop or two a dungeon fills! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN OF THE CITY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ODE TO WISDOM by ELIZABETH CARTER THE LEAK IN THE DIKE; A STORY OF HOLLAND by PHOEBE CARY THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: BOMBER IN LONDON by RUDYARD KIPLING THE SLAVE'S DREAM by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |