Ere the Earth was, or the skies were, I Had a Soul, and with it my desire To drink the Wine of Life, and never cease To drain the Cup until it was quite dry.
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"The Potter, having labor’d long and sore In many a Wheel, turns out at last no more Than a broken Pot, which he throws away, And then begins his work again as before."
"Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And who with Eden didst devise the Snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blackened – Man’s forgiveness give – and take!"
"Earth then an endless Tabernacle drew Of Him whose coming none can tell, nor who, To fill the Bowl where now we pour the Wine, Before we too into the Dust shall strew."
"For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, I watched the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd—'Gently, Brother, gently, pray!'"
"Earth, Air, and Water, and the living Fire, And the two Worlds, and all that they desire, Are but the Forms of one—and that one still The shadow of a Shadow, and a Lie."
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