And sinners to a mercy-seat.
TRUE POETRY’S TASK
When first the human clay, instinct with thought,
Doth feel the motions of those hidden fires
That by a subtle alchemy sublime
The crude contexture of its grosser powers,
It is not life—rather capacity
Of life and power hereafter to be given.
Life lies beyond us, as an Orphic tale
Of things mysterious and dimly seen,