Mary Morgan
“In Apprehension, So Like a God.”
TAKE the mouldering dust,
Wake it into life,—
Matter is but servant of the mind.
Touch the silent keys:
Genius can evoke
Music wherein gods commune with men.
Read the soul of man,
And the farthest star;
Truth is one, and is forever true.
Think the wildest thought,
Hope the utmost hope—
Time shall be when all shall be fulfilled.
Wonder not at deed,
Wonder more at thought,
Wonder at the hope that feeds itself.
Genius is divine,
Genius is the true:
Man becomes that which he worships,—God!
Charity
THOU askest not to know the creed,
The rank or name is naught to thee;
Where’er the human heart cries “Help!”
Thy kingdom is, O Charity!
Life
MYSTERIOUS Life! we speak as if we knew
What meant this vortex: Ah, what doth it mean?
A spirit of unrest is Life—hath been
Alluring made with many-tinted hue.
From darkest chasm it lifts man to a peak
Where he may see ideal flowers blow;
But as he learns to love them, it will show
Him other heights that he is forced to seek.
Enchantress, Disenchantress,—both in one!
Surrounding us to-day with dazzling light,
To-morrow hiding every ray of sun
Till we are sunk in the abyss of night.
The oracles are dumb: whate’er Life be,
Man walks by faith alone; he cannot see.