Mind Is A Light Which The Gods

The Grand Stye Arises In Poetry, When A Noble Nature, Poetically Gifted, Treats With Simplicity Or With Severity A Serious Subject.

Philistinism! - We Have Not The Expression In English. Perhaps We Have Not The Word Because We Have So Much Of The Thing.

Mind Is A Light Which The Gods Mock Us With, To Lead Those False Who Trust It.

Only--but This Is Rare-- When A Beloved Hand Is Laid In Ours, When, Jaded With The Rush And Glare Of The Interminable Hours, Our Eyes Can In Another's Eyes Read Clear, When Our World-deafen'd Ear Is By The Tones Of A Loved Voice Caress'd-- A Bolt Is Shot Back Somewhere In Our Breast, And A Lost Pulse Of Feeling Stirs Again. The Eye Sinks Inward, And The Heart Lies Plain, And What We Mean, We Say, And What We Would, We Know. A Man Becomes Aware Of His Life's Flow, And Hears Its Winding Murmur; And He Sees The Meadows Where It Glides, The Sun, The Breeze.

Let The Long Contention Cease! / Geese Are Swans, And Swans Are Geese.