The Heptalogia By Algernon Charles Swinburne THE HIGHER PANTHEISMIN A NUTSHELL One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is: Surely this is not that: but that is assuredly this. What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under: If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder. Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt: We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without? Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover: Neither are straight ...
The Heptalogia By Algernon Charles Swinburne THE HIGHER PANTHEISMIN A NUTSHELL One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is: Surely this is not that: but that is assuredly this. What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under: If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder. Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt: We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without? Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover: Neither are straight lines curves: yet over is under and over. Two and two may be four: but four and four are not eight: Fate and God may be twain: but God is the same thing as fate. Ask a man what he thinks, and get from a man what he feels: God, once caught in the fact, shows you a fair pair of heels. Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which: The soul squats down in the flesh, like a tinker drunk in a ditch. More is the whole than a part: but half is more than the whole: Clearly, the soul is the body: but is not the body the soul? One and two are not one: but one and nothing is two: Truth can hardly be false, if falsehood cannot be true. Once the mastodon was: pterodactyls were common as cocks: Then the mammoth was God: now is He a prize ox. Parallels all things are: yet many of these are askew: You are certainly I: but certainly I am not you. Springs the rock from the plain, shoots the stream from the rock: Cocks exist for the hen: but hens exist for the cock. God, whom we see not, is: and God, who is not, we see: Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee. JOHN JONES'S WIFE I AT THE PIANO I Love me and leave me; what love bids retrieve me? can June's fist grasp May?Leave me and love me; hopes eyed once above me like spring's sprouts decay;Fall as the snow falls, when summer leaves grow false-cards packed for storm's play! II Nay, say Decay's self be but last May's elf, wing shifted, eye sheathed-Changeling in April's crib rocked, who lets 'scape rills locked fast since frost breathed-Skin cast (think!) adder-like, now bloom bursts bladder-like, -bloom frost bequeathed? III Ah, how can fear sit and hear as love hears it grief's heart's cracked grate's screech?Chance lets the gate sway that opens on hate's way and shews on shame's beachCrouched like an imp sly change watch sweet love's shrimps lie, a toothful in each. IV Time feels his tooth slip on husks wet from Truth's lip, which drops them and grins-Shells where no throb stirs of life left in lobsters since joy thrilled their fins-Hues of the prawn's tail or comb that makes dawn stale, so red for our sins! V Years blind and deaf use the soul's joys as refuse, heart's peace as manure, Reared whence, next June's rose shall bloom where our moons rose last year, just as pure: Moons' ends match roses' ends: men by beasts' noses' ends mete sin's stink's cure. VI Leaves love last year smelt now feel dead love's tears melt-flies caught in time's mesh!Salt are the dews in which new time breeds new sin, brews blood and stews flesh; We are delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive Classic Library collection. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. The aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature, and our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. The contents of the vast majority of titles in the Classic Library have been scanned from the original works. To ensure a high quality product, each title has been meticulously hand curated by our staff. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with a book that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic work, and that for you it becomes an enrichin
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Very Good. Portland, Maine; 1898. Blue paper covered boards with pasted on spine title; mild edge wear; spine and edges mildly discolored; 8vo-over 7 3/4"-9 3/4" Tall; no jacket. Rough cut edges; interior is unmarked; 96 pages.
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