{"id":107,"date":"2010-11-19T18:34:54","date_gmt":"2010-11-19T23:34:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/?p=107"},"modified":"2010-11-19T18:34:54","modified_gmt":"2010-11-19T23:34:54","slug":"from-paracelsus","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/2010\/107\/poems\/from-paracelsus\/","title":{"rendered":"From “Paracelsus”"},"content":{"rendered":"

Robert Browning<\/em><\/p>\n

I<\/p>\n

TRUTH is within ourselves; it takes no rise
\nFrom outward things, whate\u2019er you may believe.
\nThere is an inmost centre in us all,
\nWhere truth abides in fullness; and around,
\nWall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,
\nThis perfect, clear perception\u2014which is truth.
\nA baffling and perverting carnal mesh
\nBinds it, and makes all error: and, to KNOW,
\nRather consists in opening out a way
\nWhence the imprisoned splendour may escape,
\nThan in effecting entry for a light
\nSupposed to be without. <\/p>\n

II<\/p>\n

I knew, I felt, (perception unexpressed,
\nUncomprehended by our narrow thought,
\nBut somehow felt and known in every shift
\nAnd change in the spirit,\u2014nay, in every pore
\nOf the body, even,)\u2014what God is, what we are
\nWhat life is\u2014how God tastes an infinite joy
\nIn infinite ways\u2014one everlasting bliss,
\nFrom whom all being emanates, all power
\nProceeds; in whom is life for evermore,
\nYet whom existence in its lowest form
\nIncludes; where dwells enjoyment there is he:
\nWith still a flying point of bliss remote,
\nA happiness in store afar, a sphere
\nOf distant glory in full view; thus climbs
\nPleasure its heights for ever and for ever.
\nThe centre-fire heaves underneath the earth,
\nAnd the earth changes like a human face;
\nThe molten ore bursts up among the rocks,
\nWinds into the stone\u2019s heart, outbranches bright
\nIn hidden mines, spots barren river-beds,
\nCrumbles into fine sand where sunbeams bask\u2014
\nGod joys therein! The wroth sea\u2019s waves are edged
\nWith foam, white as the bitten lip of hate,
\nWhen, in the solitary waste, strange groups
\nOf young volcanos come up, cyclops-like,
\nStaring together with their eyes on flame\u2014
\nGod tastes a pleasure in their uncouth pride.
\nThen all is still; earth is a wintry clod:
\nBut spring-wind, like a dancing psaltress, passes
\nOver its breast to waken it, rare verdure
\nBuds tenderly upon rough banks, between
\nThe withered tree-roots and the cracks of frost,
\nLike a smile striving with a wrinkled face;
\nThe grass grows bright, the boughs are swoln with blooms
\nLike chrysalids impatient for the air,
\nThe shining dorrs are busy, beetles run
\nAlong the furrows, ants make their ade;
\nAbove, birds fly in merry flocks, the lark
\nSoars up and up, shivering for very joy;
\nAfar the ocean sleeps; white fishing-gulls
\nFlit where the strand is purple with its tribe
\nOf nested limpets; savage creatures seek
\nTheir loves in wood and plain\u2014and God renews
\nHis ancient rapture. Thus He dwells in all,
\nFrom life\u2019s minute beginnings, up at last
\nTo man\u2014the consummation of this scheme
\nOf being, the completion of this sphere
\nOf life: whose attributes had here and there
\nBeen scattered o\u2019er the visible world before,
\nAsking to be combined, dim fragments meant
\nTo be united in some wondrous whole,
\nImperfect qualities throughout creation,
\nSuggesting some one creature yet to make,
\nSome point where all those scattered rays should meet
\nConvergent in the faculties of man.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Robert Browning I TRUTH is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate\u2019er you may believe. There is an inmost centre in us all, Where truth abides in fullness; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perception\u2014which is truth. A baffling and perverting carnal mesh Binds […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-107","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems","category-4-id","post-seq-1","post-parity-odd","meta-position-corners","fix"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=107"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":108,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107\/revisions\/108"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=107"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=107"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kuny.ca\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=107"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}