I do not need the skies' <br />Pomp, when I would be wise; <br />For pleasaunce nor to use <br />Heaven's champaign when I muse. <br />One grass-blade in its veins <br />Wisdom's whole flood contains; <br />Thereon my foundering mind <br />Odyssean fate can find. <br /> <br />O little blade, now vaunt <br />Thee, and be arrogant! <br />Tell the proud sun that he <br />Sweated in shaping thee; <br />Night, that she did unvest <br />Her mooned and argent breast <br />To suckle thee. Heaven fain <br /> <br />Yearned over thee in rain, <br />And with wide parent wing <br />Shadowed thee, nested thing, <br />Fed thee, and slaved for thy <br />Impotent tyranny. <br />Nature's broad thews bent <br />Meek for thy content. <br />Mastering littleness <br />Which the wise heavens confess, <br />The frailty which doth draw <br />Magnipotence to its law-- <br />These were, O happy one, these <br />Thy laughing puissances! <br /> <br />Be confident of thought, <br />Seeing that thou art naught; <br />And be thy pride thou'rt all <br />Delectably safe and small. <br />Epitomized in thee <br />Was the mystery <br />Which shakes the spheres conjoint-- <br />God focussed to a point. <br /> <br />All thy fine mouths shout <br />Scorn upon dull-eyed doubt. <br />Impenetrable fool <br />Is he thou canst not school <br />To the humility <br />By which the angels see! <br />Unfathomably framed <br />Sister, I am not shamed <br /> <br />Before the cherubin <br />To vaunt my flesh thy kin. <br />My one hand thine, and one <br />Imprisoned in God's own, <br />I am as God; alas, <br />And such a god of grass! <br />A little root clay-caught, <br />A wind, a flame, a thought, <br />Inestimably naught!<br /><br />Francis Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-flesh/
