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John White Chadwick (Джон Уайт Чедвик) The Rise of Man THOU for whose birth the whole creation yearned Through countless ages of the morning world, Who, first in fiery vapors dimly hurled, Next to the senseless crystal slowly turned, Then to the plant which grew to something more,-- Humblest of creatures that draw breath of life,-- Wherefrom through infinites of patient pain Came conscious man to reason and adore: Shall we be shamed because such things have been, Or bate one jot of our ancestral pride? Nay, in thyself art thou not deified That from such depths thou couldst such summits win? While the long way behind is prophecy Of those perfections which are yet to be. John White Chadwick's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1189 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |