SONNET.
[To THE BLIND ARCHITECT OF THE CITY OF LIFE, WHOSE RUMBLE HONES ARE THE CREATURES OF EARTH, WATER, AND AIR, AND WHOSE NIETTNO-HOUSI" IS MAN.)
How true thy work, blind Builder of the homes Which throng the paths of Life 1—beasts, fishes, birds, All things which be, they are as bodied words, Or moving thoughts of some high whole which looms Above us in the star-dust and the mist, Around us in the voices of the night, Within us in quick glimpses of love-light, That leave us doubting if we dream'd or wist.
But true thy art, it's unmeant meanings telling ; Blind Builder of the city, on whose crown Man stands—a temple for a God's in-dwelling, Thy finest! no, thy sole false work I—Cast down
The lying altar, raze it to the sod,—
What means a temple where there is no God ?
Previous page
