John William Inchbold

(1830-1888 / England)

Art - Poem by John William Inchbold

Mysterious force, as beautiful as strange,
And pure with beauty and with mystery,
Queen of the world in wide extent of range,
Through every motion of the sky and sea,
And the sweet mother of all joy, our Earth
Whether in moment of her snowy rest,
Or autumn eve, or summer noon, or birth
Of spring time o'er an Alpine mountain's crest,
To touch thy robe is life, but to receive
Thy touch of fiery lip, then pierce with eye
Made clear and strong, and afterwards to weave
With all our heart, fair forms that cannot die:—
This bliss supreme being ours, thine own free gift,
Makes life one joy and dull time keen and swift.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 13, 2010

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