YEARNING to know herself for all she was, <br />Her passionate clash of warring good and ill, <br />Her new life ever ground in Death's old mill, <br />With every delicate detail and en masse,-- <br />Blind Nature strove. Lo, then it came to pass, <br />That Time, to work out her unconscious Will, <br />Once wrought the Mind which she had groped for still, <br />And she beheld herself as in a glass. <br /> <br />The world of men, unrolled before our sight, <br />Showed like a map, where stream and waterfall <br />And village-cradling vale and cloud-capped height <br />Stand faithfully recorded, great and small; <br />For Shakespeare was, and at his touch, with light <br />Impartial as the Sun's, revealed the All.<br /><br />Mathilde Blind<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shakespeare-13/
