Archive for the ‘Philip James Bailey’ Category

All nature in the poet’s heart is limued
In little; as now in landscape stones, we see
The swell of ground, green groves, and running streams
Fresh from the wolds of Chaos; hints of life

Foreworldly, pencilled by pre-solar light…

Let every thought, too, soldier-like, be stripped,
And roughly look’d over…
A mist of words,
Like haloes round the moon, though they enlarge…

And yet if one would look down a deep well,
Even at noon, we might see these same stars,
Far fairer than the blinding blue: the Truth
Shines in the water like a dark bright eye…

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives,
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest:
Lives in one hour more than in years do some…