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Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.
. From ‘The Ancient Sage’
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)
IF thou would’st hear the Nameless, and wilt dive
Into the Temple-cave of thine own self,
There, brooding by the central altar, thou
May’st haply learn the Nameless hath a voice,
By which thou wilt abide, if thou be wise,
As if thou knewest, tho’ thou canst not know;
For Knowledge is the swallow on the lake
That sees and stirs the surface-shadow there
But never yet hath dipt into the abysm,
The Abysm of all Abysms, beneath, within
The blue of sky and sea, the green of earth,
And in the million-millionth of a grain
Which cleft and cleft again for evermore,
And ever vanishing, never vanishes,
To me, my son, more mystic than myself,
Or even than the Nameless is to me.
And when thou sendest thy free soul thro’ heaven,
Nor understandest bound nor boundlessness,
Thou seest the Nameless of the hundred names.
And if the Nameless should withdraw from all
Thy frailty counts most real, all thy world
Might vanish like thy shadow in the dark.
‘And since—from when this earth began—
The Nameless never came
Among us, never spake with man,
And never named the Name’—
Thou canst not prove the Nameless, O my son,
Nor canst thou prove the world thou movest in,
Thou canst not prove that thou art body alone,
Nor canst thou prove that thou art spirit alone,
Nor canst thou prove that thou art both in one:
Thou canst not prove thou art immortal, no
Nor yet that thou art mortal—nay my son,
Thou canst not prove that I, who speak with thee,
Am not thyself in converse with thyself,
For nothing worthy proving can be proven,
Nor yet disproven: wherefore thou be wise,
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt,
And cling to Faith beyond the forms of Faith
She reels not in the storm of warring words,
She brightens at the clash of ‘Yes’ and ‘No’,
She sees the Best that glimmers thro’ the Worst,
She feels the Sun is hid but for a night,
She spies the summer thro’ the winter bud,
She tastes the fruit before the blossom falls,
She hears the lark within the songless egg,
She finds the fountain where they wail’d ‘Mirage’!
William Blake - Auguries of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
Originally posted by silent thunder
Mysticism has a bad rap. But consider:
-In essence, pure mysticism is totally compatable with science, and thus can bridge the gap between science/religion.
Originally posted by drew hempel
Poetry is good but for it's true meaning read Peter Kingsley, Ph.D. -- In the Dark Places of Wisdom, tracing the real purpose of poetry in Ancient Greek philosophy peterkingsley.com...
Originally posted by gaurdian2012
Originally posted by silent thunder
Mysticism has a bad rap. But consider:
-In essence, pure mysticism is totally compatable with science, and thus can bridge the gap between science/religion.
yes, i agree with this point the missing factor is tech to bridge the gap
Mysticism means so much, so much that quite often I lack the words need to describe what it means to me...
Originally posted by JaxonRoberts
The Nameless... I like that alot. It's one of the problems I have in expressing my beliefs concerning Divinity. I have no name for It. The One... The Source... The Nameless...
Excellent post, Storm... S & F!!!