28.10.2007, 12:55
MY childhood was a vision heavenly wrought ;
High joys of which I sometimes dream, yet fail
To recollect sufficient to bewail.
And now for ever seek, came then unsought :
But thoughts denying feeling, every thought
Some buried feeling's ghost, a spirit pale,
Sprang up, and wordy nothings could prevail
And juggle with my soul ; since, better taught,
The Christian's apprehension, light that solves
Doubt without logic, rose in logic's room ;
Sweet faith came back, sweet faith that hope involves,
And joys, like stars, which, though they not illume
This mortal night, have glory that dissolves
And strikes to quick transparence all its gloom.
High joys of which I sometimes dream, yet fail
To recollect sufficient to bewail.
And now for ever seek, came then unsought :
But thoughts denying feeling, every thought
Some buried feeling's ghost, a spirit pale,
Sprang up, and wordy nothings could prevail
And juggle with my soul ; since, better taught,
The Christian's apprehension, light that solves
Doubt without logic, rose in logic's room ;
Sweet faith came back, sweet faith that hope involves,
And joys, like stars, which, though they not illume
This mortal night, have glory that dissolves
And strikes to quick transparence all its gloom.