As The Indian.

Lo, the poor Indian, whose untutored mind
Sees God in the clouds and hears Him in the wind.
--Pope.


Within the wind, my untaught ear
    The voice of Deity can hear,
And in the fleeting cloud discern
    His movements, vast and taciturn;
        For in the universe I trace
        The wondrous grandeur of His face.

I see him in each blade of grass,
    Each towering peak and mountain pass;
Each forest, river, lake and fen
    Reveals the God of worlds and men;
        His works of wisdom prove to me,
        A wise, creative Deity.

Alfred Castner King

Alfred Castner King was an American poet. He is recognized for his significant contributions to American poetry. Despite battling with blindness, his disability did not deter him from crafting poetry that captivated many readers. King often wrote about nature and personal experiences, reflecting a deep appreciation for the world around him and the nuances of human emotion.

Alfred Castner King

In Mortem Meditare.

Alfred Castner King, Simple Poetry

Christmas Chimes.

Alfred Castner King, Simple Poetry

Shall Our Memories Live When the Sod Rolls Above Us?

Alfred Castner King, Simple Poetry

As the Shifting Sands of the Desert.

Alfred Castner King, Simple Poetry

English

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In Deo Fides.

Almighty God! Supreme! Most High!
    Before Thy throne, in reverence, we kneel;
We cannot realize Thine infinity;
    Beholding not, we can Thy presence feel;
Though veiled impenetrably, Thou dost reveal
Such evidence as clouds cannot conceal!

Acknowledged, though unseen, Almighty Power!
    Within its secret depths, the bosom pays
In pleasure's or affliction's calmer hour,
    The heart's sincerest offering of praise;
Intuitive, unuttered prayers arise
Without the outstretched arms, or reverently clos-ed eyes.

Down deep within the soul's mysterious seat,
    The voice of reason, and inherent sense,
Admits Thy Sovereign Power, and doth entreat
    The guidance of a Just Omnipotence;
Thus doth the human essence e'er depend
On that Supreme. Ete...

Alfred Castner King

The Indian Upon God

I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees,
My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees,
My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moor-fowl pace
All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase
Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak:
Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak
Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky.
The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye.
I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk:
Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,
For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide
Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide.
A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes
Brimful of starlight, and he...

William Butler Yeats

Deity.

No personal; a God divinely crowned
With gold and raised upon a golden throne
Deep in a golden glory, whence he nods
Man this or that, and little more than man!

And shalt thou see Him individual?
Not till the freed intelligence hath sought
Ten hundred hundred years to rise and love,
Piercing the singing cycles under God,
Their iridescent evolutions orbed
In wild prismatic splendors, shall it see
Through God-propinquity become a god
See, lightening out of spheric harmonies,
Resplendencies of empyrean light,
Prisms and facets of ten million beams
Starring a crystal of berainbowed rays,
And in this - eyes of burning sapphire, eyes
Deep as the music of the beautiful;
And o'er the eyes, limpid hierarchal brows,
As they were lilies of seraphic fire;<...

Madison Julius Cawein

A Look At The Heavens.

O who can witness with a careless eye
The countless lamps that light an evening sky,
And not be struck with wonder at the sight!
To think what mighty Power must there abound,
That burns each spangle with a steady light,
And guides each hanging world its rolling round.
What multitudes my misty eye have found;
The countless numbers speak a Deity:
In numbers numberless the skies are crown'd,
And still they're nothing which my sight can see,
When science, searching through her aiding glass,
In seeming blanks to me can millions trace;
While millions more, that every heart impress,
Still brighten up throughout eternal space.
O Power Almighty! whence these beings shine,
All wisdom's lost in comprehending thine.

John Clare

Indian Summer.

Is it not our bounden duty
    Harsh and bitter thoughts to quell,
    Wild, ambitions schemes repel,
And to revel in the beauty
    Of this Indian summer spell,
    Bathing forest, field, and dell
    As with radiance immortelle?

None can paint like nature dying;
    Whose dissolving struggle lent
    Wealth of hues so richly blent
That, through weary years of trying,
    Artist skill pre-eminent
    May not copy or invent
    Such divine embellishment.

Knights of old from castles riding
    Scattered largesse as they went
    Which, like manna heaven-sent,
Cheered the poverty-abiding;
    But, when 'neath "that low green tent"
    Passed the hand benevolent,
    Sad were they and indigent.

Monarchs, too, have thus d...

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There is an Air of Majesty.

There is an air of majesty,
A bearing dignified and free,
    About the mountain peaks;
Each crag of weather-beaten stone
Presents a grandeur of its own
    To him who seeks.

There is a proud, defiant mein,
Expressive, stern, and yet serene,
    About the precipice;
Whose rugged form looks grimly down,
And answers, with an austere frown
    The sunlight's kiss.

The mountain, with the snow bank crowned;
The gorge, abysmal and profound;
    Impress with aspect grand:
With unfeigned reverence I see
In canon and declivity
    The All-Wise Hand.

Alfred Castner King