I LIE in a heavy trance, With' a world of dream without me, Shapes of shadow dance, In wavering bands about me; But, at times, some mystic things Appear in this phantom lair, That almost seem to me visitings Of Truth known elsewhere: The world is wide, -- these things are small, They may be nothing, but they are All. A prayer in an hour of pain, Begun in an undertone, Then lowered, as it would fain Be heard by the heart alone; A throb, when the soul is entered By a light that is lit above, Where the God of Nature has centered The Beauty of Love. -- The world is wide, -- these things are small, They may be nothing, but they are All. A look that is telling a tale, Which looks alone dare tell, -- When' a cheek is no longer pale, That has caught the glance, as it fell; A touch, which seems to unlock Treasures unknown as yet, And the bitter-sweet first shock, One can never forget; The world is wide, -- these things are small, They may be nothing, but they are All. A sense of an earnest Will To help the lowly-living, -- And a terrible heart-thrill, If you' have no power of giving; An arm of aid to the weak, A friendly hand to the friendless, Kind words, so short to speak, But whose echo is endless: The world is wide, -- these things are small, They may be nothing, but they are All. The moment we think we have learnt The lore of the all-wise One, By which we could stand unburnt, On the ridge of the seething sun: The moment we grasp at the clue, Long-lost and strangely riven, Which guides our soul to the True, And, the Poet to Heaven. The world is wide, -- these things are small, -- If they be nothing, what is there at all? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LORD ALCOHOL; SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TASTING THE EARTH by JAMES OPPENHEIM ANTHEM FOR DOOMED YOUTH by WILFRED OWEN NOTHING WILL DIE by ALFRED TENNYSON ON A SWEARING COXCOMB by ROBERT BURNS LINES SUGGESTED BY THE STATUE OF ARNOLD VON WINKELRIED STANZ-UNTERWALDEN by THOMAS CAMPBELL |