How mystical is thought! We do but think, <br />Be it of heaven or hell, and we are there! <br />Such feet has phantasy, more fleet than light, <br />We flash ourselves away where'er we will, <br />And in a wink return we know not how. <br />It is our Genius haply makes it all — <br />The vision of the things we seem to see, <br />Which yet are not, or were not, had we not <br />The miracle of thought within us still, <br />Like Love's begetting, making all things new, <br />And still unmaking all we have done with; <br />So with creative joy as in a dream <br />Folding us in ourselves, as if it were, <br />Who are still one with all that we have made, <br />Revisioning the mystic entities <br />As each one reads as with undying eyes <br />The hyacinthine wonder of the soul, <br />As if alone in an enchanted isle <br />On the meridian of his own desire.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thought-41/
