Xenophanes By fate, not option, frugal nature gave One scent to hyson and to wallflower, One sound to pine-groves and to water-falls, One aspect to the desert and the lake, It was her stern necessity. All things Are of one pattern made; bird, beast, and plant, Song, picture, form, space, thought, and character, Deceive us, seeming to be many things, And are but one. Beheld far off, they part As God and Devil; bring them to the mind, They dull its edge with their monotony. To know the old element explore a new, And in the second reappears the first. The specious panorama of a year But multiplies the image of a day, A belt of mirrors round a tapers flame, And universal nature through her vast And crowded whole, an infinite paroquet, Repeats one cricket note.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 02:17:29 +0000