Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Poems
While the warm spirit animates the brain, And fancy lends her aid - I give my mind, Up to the habit of a sounding song Mysterious working of the soul for truth, Chanting her thought, it may be, not in vain.
Creature is he of a mysterious mould Existent, sentient, intellectual man; And in a world of equal mystery, Resting an hour, to plume his wings for Heaven. Whoever sits and dreams of his own nature, Starts at himself, and asks 'if this can be?' Death is around him - one eternal sleep. The earth he treads, this hand he gazes on, Are, of themselves, in immemorial sleep. Each thing he sees - the meekest, modest ?ower, The rolling orbs, the infinite sun in heaven Are, though a part now of one beautiful whole A lifeless, leaden, indistinguishable mass, A nothing in one universal void! But, when he takes this wondrous world within, Starts a new being - the idea of power; And the wide universe becomes one Thought, And mind, an Infinite mind, is seen in all!
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