When I Behold the Greatest |
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When I behold the greatest and most wise Fall out of heaven, wings not by pride struck numb Like Satan's, but to gain some humbler crumb Of pittance from penurious granaries; And when I see under each new disguise The same cowardice of custom, the same dumb Devil that drove our Wordsworth to become Apologist of kings and priests and lies; And how a man may find in all he loathes Contentment after all, and so endear it By cowardly craft it grows his inmost own;-- Then I renew my faith with firmer oaths, And bind with more tremendous vows a spirit That, often fallen, never has lain prone. |