The mind is strange That looks out of my eyes Labours with my hands, Whose impulse stirs my dust And in my soul affirms Its certainties. Yet I can close The eternal mind to all it knows, Deny The love that moves in me When the spirit blows. This my being Raised up from time's beginning May the power use. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROUEN; 26 APRIL - 25 MAY 1915 by MAY WEDDERBURN CANNAN EYES AND TEARS by ANDREW MARVELL TO IRELAND IN THE COMING TIMES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A BLACKBIRD SUDDENLY by JOSEPH AUSLANDER NOVEMBER 4TH, 1937 by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) THE PASQUE FLOWER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH |