We thrill too strangely at the master's touch; We shrink too sadly from the larger self Which for its own completeness agitates And undertermines us; we do not feel -- We dare not feel it yet -- the splendid shame Of uncreated failure; we forget, The while we groan, that God's accomplishment Is always and unfailingly at hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OF THE THEME OF LOVE by MARGARET LUCAS CAVENDISH THE RIVER-MERCHANT'S WIFE: A LETTER by LI PO IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 43 by ALFRED TENNYSON FOOTLIGHT MOTIFS: 4. NATALIE ALT by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |