The Soul of Man

by Dora Read Goodale English

Say, in a hut of mean estate   A light just glimmers and then is gone, Nature is seen to hesitate,—   Put forth and then retract her pawn; Say, in the alembic of an eye   Haughty is mixed with poor and low; Say, Truth herself is not so high   But Error laughs to see her so; Say, all that strength failed in its trust;   Say, all that wit crept but a span; Say, ’t is a drop spilled in the dust,—   And then say brother—then say man!

More poems by Dora Read Goodale

All poems by Dora Read Goodale →