THE CONTINUING CITY
by: Laurence Housman (1865-1959)
- OD, who made man out of dust,
- Willed him to be
- Not to known ends, but to trust
- His decree.
-
- This is our city, a soul
- Walled within clay;
- Separate hearts of one whole,
- Bound we obey.
-
- All that He meant us to be,
- Could we discern,--
- Life had no meaning,--or we
- Had not to learn.
-
- Thou, beloved, doubt not the truth
- Eyesight makes dim!
- All life, to age from youth,
- Brings us to Him:
-
- Him Whom thou hast not seen,
- Canst not yet know:
- Human hearts stand between,
- His to foreshow.
-
- Couldst thou possess thine own,
- That were the key;
- He, to Whom hearts are known,
- Keeps it from thee.
-
- Thou all thy days must live,
- Thyself the quest;
- Plucking the heart to give
- From thine own breast.
-
- Till thou, from other eyes,
- At kindred calls,
- Seest thine own towers arise,
- And thine own walls,--
-
- Where, conquering the wide air,
- Peopling its waste,
- Citadels everywhere
- Like stars stand based:
-
- Losing thy soul, thy soul
- Again to find;
- Rendering toward that goal
- Thy separate mind.
"The Continuing City"
is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse.
Ed. Nicholson & Lee. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1917. |
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POEMS BY LAURENCE HOUSMAN |
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