DOUBT spake no word in me as there I kneeled. <br />Loathing, I could not praise: I could not thank <br />God for the cup of evil that I drank: <br />I dared not cry upon His strength to shield <br />My soul from weapons it was bent to wield <br />Itself against itself. And so I sank <br />Into the furnished phrases smooth and blank <br />Which we all learn in childhood,—and did yield <br />A barren prayer for life. My voice might mix <br />With hers, but mingled not. Hers was a full <br />Grand burst of music, which the crownèd Seven <br />Must have leaned sideways from their seats to fix <br />In their calm minds. The seraph—songs fell dull <br />Doubtless, when heard again, throughout all heaven.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/praise-and-prayer-2/
