Cyclopean
A mountainous and mystic brute No rein can curb, no arrow shoot, Upon whose domed deformed back I sweep the planets scorching track. Old is the elf, and wise, men say, His hair grows green as ours grows grey; He mocks the stars with myriad hands. High as that swinging forest stands. But though in pigmy wanderings dull I scour the deserts of his skull, I never find the face, eyes, teeth. Lowering or laughing underneath. I met my foe in an empty dell, His face in the sun was naked hell. I thought, 'One silent, bloody blow. No priest would curse, no crowd would know.' Then cowered: a daisy, half concealed, Watched for the fame of that poor field; And in that flower and suddenly Earth opened its one eye on me.
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"A mountainous and mystic brute..."
This evocative piece by Gilbert Keith Chesterton, titled "Cyclopean", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...