A lump of Matter, a house of closed sight,
A mind compelled to think out ignorance,
A life-force pressed into a camp of works
And the material world her limiting field.
A mind compelled to think out ignorance,
A life-force pressed into a camp of works
And the material world her limiting field.
(Book seven, Canto three)
All is a hundred-toned murmur and babble
and stir,
There is a tireless running to and fro,
A haste of movement and a ceaseless cry,
The hurried servant senses answer apace
To every knock upon the outer doors,
Bring in life’s visitors, report each call,
Admit the thousand queries and the calls
And the messages of communicating minds
And the heavy business of unnumbered lives
And all the thousand fold commerce of the world.
There is a tireless running to and fro,
A haste of movement and a ceaseless cry,
The hurried servant senses answer apace
To every knock upon the outer doors,
Bring in life’s visitors, report each call,
Admit the thousand queries and the calls
And the messages of communicating minds
And the heavy business of unnumbered lives
And all the thousand fold commerce of the world.
(Book seven, Canto two)
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