That light, that sight, that thought, Which in my soul at first He wrought, Is sure the only act to which I may Assent today: The mirror of an endless life, The shadow of a virgin wife, A spiritual world standing within, An universe enclos'd in skin. My power exerted, or my perfect being, If not enjoying, yet an act of seeing. My bliss Consists in this, My duty too In this I view. It is a fountain or a spring, Refreshing me in everything. From whence those living streams I do derive, By which my thirsty soul is kept alive. The centre and the sphere Of my delights are here. It is my David's tower, Where all my armour lies, The fountain of my power, My bliss, my sacrifice: A little spark, That shining in the dark, Makes, and encourages my soul to rise. The root of hope, the golden chain, Whose end is, as the poets feign, Fasten'd to the very throne Of Jove. It is a stone, On which I sit, An endless benefit, That being made my regal throne, Doth prove An oracle of His eternal love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE FABLE: THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON TO ELECTRA (1) by ROBERT HERRICK AT THE CANNON'S MOUTH by HERMAN MELVILLE THE HEART OF THE SOURDOUGH by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE STRAYED REVELLER by MATTHEW ARNOLD |