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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396002" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Spirit Of Poetry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">All things are Hers. Concealed or manifest,<br>Found or unfound, Her Spirit lives in each—<br>Dumb till the Master-Soul its secret guessed<br>And gave its silence speech. <br>All things are Hers. She is the Crystal Queen<br>Of all men’s vision, and the moving breath<br>Which through the greyness of the sordid scene<br>Gloweth and quickeneth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She is the flower-maid of the dreaming noon,<br>The goddess of the temple of the night;<br>Where the berg-turrets gleam beneath the moon<br>She builds Her throne of white. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She knows the Battle-Hymn of mighty wars<br>When wind and ocean thunder on the strand.<br>She knows the song the lonely river-bars<br>Sing to the listening land. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Armoured and helmeted and spurred for fight<br>She fires men’s hearts to right the bitter wrong;<br>Yet sits She weaving of a summer night<br>Flowers of a bridal song. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She gives the temper that has made men great<br>And fashioned heroes out of common clay,<br>And welded firm into a mighty State<br>The tribes of yesterday. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Youth’s radiant vision, and the dreamy dawn<br>Of the soft lovelight in a maiden’s eyes,<br>And holiest joys of motherhood, are drawn<br>By Her from Paradise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She knows the Wheel-Song of the Stars that run<br>Their glittering courses through the blue abyss.<br>Ere the round earth fell flaming from the sun<br>Her spirit was, and is. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She is the Phoeix, ever making true<br>The dim tradition of the misty morn.<br>The crucible of science gives anew<br>Her fairy form re-born. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All things are Hers—but not with equal word<br>Dowers She the pilgrims of the sacred shrine.<br>Only the Great Interpreters have heard<br>Her melodies divine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All things are Hers, and so to Her I bring<br>Songs of the dreams that haunt me on my way—<br>I who scarce hear the rustle of Her wing<br>Borne on the wind away!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Essex+Evans">George Essex Evans</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396002" data-title="The Spirit Of Poetry de George Essex Evans" data-description="All things are Hers. Concealed or manifest,
Found or unfound, Her Spirit lives in each—
Dumb till the Master-Soul its secret guessed
And gave its silence speech. 
All things are Hers. She is the Crystal Queen
Of all men’s vision, and the movin..."></div>
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