The human heart can go to the lengths of God.
Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no winter now. The frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;
The thunder is the thunder of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.
Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us till we take
The longest stride of soul we humans ever took.
Affairs are now soul size.
Is exploration into God.
Where are you making for? It takes
So many thousand years to wake,
But will you wake for pity
Comedy is an escape, not from truth but from despair; a narrow escape into faith.
Poetry is the language in which man explores his own amazement… says heaven and earth in one word… speaks of himself and his predicament as though for the first time. It has the virtue of being able to say twice as much as prose in half the time, and the drawback, if you do not give it your full attention, of seeming to say half as much in twice the time.
Topics: Poetry, Poets
Our birth and death we may touch understanding
As a moth brushes a window with its wing.
We must each find our separate meaning in the persuasion of our days until we meet in the meaning of the world.
Wondering Whom to Read Next?
- Arthur Eddington English Astronomer
- Walter Reuther American Labor Leader
- Dennis Potter English Dramatist
- Jean Anouilh French Playwright
- Charles Reade British Author
- David Hockney British Artist
- Reginald Horace Blyth British Japanologist
- Dorothy L. Sayers English Novelist, Playwright
- Laurence Housman English Novelist, Dramatist
- John Galsworthy English Novelist, Playwright