The Second Book of Modern Verse; a selection from the work of contemporaneous American poets by Unknown
page 21 of 315 (06%)
page 21 of 315 (06%)
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When all dust shall be, the whole
Universe, one conscious soul. Yea, the quiet and cool sod Bears in her breast the dream of God. If you would know what earth is, scan The intricate, proud heart of man, Which is the earth articulate, And learn how holy and how great, How limitless and how profound Is the nature of the ground -- How without terror or demur We may entrust ourselves to her When we are wearied out, and lay Our faces in the common clay. For she is pity, she is love, All wisdom she, all thoughts that move About her everlasting breast Till she gathers them to rest: All tenderness of all the ages, Seraphic secrets of the sages, Vision and hope of all the seers, All prayer, all anguish, and all tears Are but the dust, that from her dream Awakes, and knows herself supreme -- Are but earth when she reveals All that her secret heart conceals Down in the dark and silent loam, Which is ourselves, asleep, at home. |
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