The Poems of William Watson by William Watson
page 64 of 209 (30%)
page 64 of 209 (30%)
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* * * * * I follow Beauty; of her train am I: Beauty whose voice is earth and sea and air; Who serveth, and her hands for all things ply; Who reigneth, and her throne is everywhere. * * * * * Toiling and yearning, 'tis man's doom to see No perfect creature fashion'd of his hands. Insulted by a flower's immaculacy, And mock'd at by the flawless stars he stands. * * * * * For metaphors of man we search the skies, And find our allegory in all the air. We gaze on Nature with Narcissus-eyes, Enamour'd of our shadow everywhere. * * * * * One music maketh its occult abode In all things scatter'd from great Beauty's hand; And evermore the deepest words of God Are yet the easiest to understand. * * * * * |
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