JOSEPH ANTISELL ALLEN
AH, what if the mind,By sense-law confined,In time, 'neath this stratum of stars,Secretes by her spellThis fair, wondrous shellSelf-substanced, till bursting the barsOf chrysalis time,Free, joyous, sublime,She mounts the blue space, winged with light,Where, deep in the soul,Is mirrored the whole,As in a calm lake the pure night!And what, if the wholeAre things of the soul,This frame, Earth, bright Moon, garnished Skies,If from the great SunOf spirit are spunAll systems which gravity tiesTo their focal source,By a hidden forceMysterious, dynamic, unknown—A power that controlsEach orb as it rolls,And links to the great central throne!...When the dew-drops shine,On each sunlit line,Of gossamer network, on sodOf emerald green,In the morning's sheen,'Tis a miniature sky-work of God....Arachne how oft,In the twilight soft,Seems poised in mid-air; yet some tieHolds spider, moon, mote,All known, near, remote,From mind to yon azure-domed sky!
AH, what if the mind,By sense-law confined,In time, 'neath this stratum of stars,Secretes by her spellThis fair, wondrous shellSelf-substanced, till bursting the barsOf chrysalis time,Free, joyous, sublime,She mounts the blue space, winged with light,Where, deep in the soul,Is mirrored the whole,As in a calm lake the pure night!And what, if the wholeAre things of the soul,This frame, Earth, bright Moon, garnished Skies,If from the great SunOf spirit are spunAll systems which gravity tiesTo their focal source,By a hidden forceMysterious, dynamic, unknown—A power that controlsEach orb as it rolls,And links to the great central throne!...When the dew-drops shine,On each sunlit line,Of gossamer network, on sodOf emerald green,In the morning's sheen,'Tis a miniature sky-work of God....Arachne how oft,In the twilight soft,Seems poised in mid-air; yet some tieHolds spider, moon, mote,All known, near, remote,From mind to yon azure-domed sky!
AH, what if the mind,By sense-law confined,In time, 'neath this stratum of stars,Secretes by her spellThis fair, wondrous shellSelf-substanced, till bursting the barsOf chrysalis time,Free, joyous, sublime,She mounts the blue space, winged with light,Where, deep in the soul,Is mirrored the whole,As in a calm lake the pure night!
AH, what if the mind,
By sense-law confined,
In time, 'neath this stratum of stars,
Secretes by her spell
This fair, wondrous shell
Self-substanced, till bursting the bars
Of chrysalis time,
Free, joyous, sublime,
She mounts the blue space, winged with light,
Where, deep in the soul,
Is mirrored the whole,
As in a calm lake the pure night!
And what, if the wholeAre things of the soul,This frame, Earth, bright Moon, garnished Skies,If from the great SunOf spirit are spunAll systems which gravity tiesTo their focal source,By a hidden forceMysterious, dynamic, unknown—A power that controlsEach orb as it rolls,And links to the great central throne!...
And what, if the whole
Are things of the soul,
This frame, Earth, bright Moon, garnished Skies,
If from the great Sun
Of spirit are spun
All systems which gravity ties
To their focal source,
By a hidden force
Mysterious, dynamic, unknown—
A power that controls
Each orb as it rolls,
And links to the great central throne!...
When the dew-drops shine,On each sunlit line,Of gossamer network, on sodOf emerald green,In the morning's sheen,'Tis a miniature sky-work of God....
When the dew-drops shine,
On each sunlit line,
Of gossamer network, on sod
Of emerald green,
In the morning's sheen,
'Tis a miniature sky-work of God....
Arachne how oft,In the twilight soft,Seems poised in mid-air; yet some tieHolds spider, moon, mote,All known, near, remote,From mind to yon azure-domed sky!
Arachne how oft,
In the twilight soft,
Seems poised in mid-air; yet some tie
Holds spider, moon, mote,
All known, near, remote,
From mind to yon azure-domed sky!