Oh! the earth is full of sinning And of trouble and of woe, But the devil makes an inning Every time we say it's so. And the way to set him scowling, And to put him back a pace,...
The World is full of kindness, And not the poor alone; We Christians in our blindness Bow down to hearts of stone; The clever, bitter cynic, Whose poisoned 'soul' is dead,...
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!...
Now, through the dusk With muffled bell The Dustman comes The World to tell, Night's elfin lanterns Burn and gleam In the twilight, wonderful World of Dream.
The long finger of blackness is holding its head for us. Dingy bue is its shade, comatose in movement, hazarding a slow swiftness, it inches toward us.
When in the pansy-purpled stain Of sunset one far star is seen, Like some bright drop of rain, Out of the forest, deep and green, O'er me at Spirit seems to lean, The fairest of her train....
* "...the fourth state of water in its plasmic state ... elements as plasmic water have programmed goals which they follow like earth encompassing genies.
Who will say the world is dying? Who will say our prime is past? Sparks from Heaven, within us lying, Flash, and will flash till the last. Fools! who fancy Christ mistaken; Man a tool to buy and sell;...
Yes, let them gather! Summon forth The pledged philanthropy of Earth. From every land, whose hills have heard The bugle blast of Freedom waking; Or shrieking of her symbol-bird...
Dark was the world when from the bowers Of forfeit Eden man went forth, With aching heart and blighted powers, To till the sterile soil of earth; Yet, even then, a glimmering light...
The roses of voluptuousness Wreathe her dark locks and hide her eyes; Her limbs are flower-like nakedness, Wherethrough the fragrant blood doth press, The blossom-blood of Paradise. ...
If every tongue that speaks her praise For whom I shape my tinkling phrase Were summoned to the table, The vocal chorus that would meet Of mingling accents harsh or sweet,...
If the sudden tidings came That on some far, foreign coast, Buried ages long from fame, Had been found a remnant lost Of that hoary race who dwelt By the golden Nile divine,...