Nor scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lend
The Soul's eternal interests to promote:
Death, darkness, danger, are our natural lot;
And evil Spirits 'may' our walk attend
For aught the wisest know or comprehend;
Then be 'good' Spirits free to breathe a note
Of elevation; let their odours float
Around these Converts; and their glories blend,
The midnight stars outshining, or the blaze
Of the noon-day. Nor doubt that golden cords
Of good works, mingling with the visions, raise
The Soul to purer worlds: and 'who' the line
Shall draw, the limits of the power define,
That even imperfect faith to man affords?
Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part I. - Xviii - Apology
William Wordsworth
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Poem topics: death, evil, faith, power, walk, raise, eternal, doubt, natural, golden, Valentine's Day, danger, breathe, soul, good, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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