This is thy brother, this poor silver fish,
Close to the surface, dying in his dish;
Thy flesh, thy beating heart, thy very life;
All this, I say, art thou, against thy wish.
Thou mayst not turn away, thou shalt allow
The truth, nor shall thou dare to question how:
There is but one great heart in nature beating,
And this is thy heart, this, I say, art thou.
In all thy power and all thy pettiness,
With this and that poor selfish purpose, this
And that high-climbing fancy, and a heart
Caught into heaven or cast in the abyss,
Thou art the same with all the little earth,
A little part; and sympathy of birth
Shall tell thee, and thine openness of soul,
What fear is death and what a life is worth.
(Philip Henry Savage)
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Based on Topics: Life Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Soul Poems, Nature Poems, Hope Poems, Fear Poems, Art Poems, Truth Poems, Brothers Poems, Birth Poems, Purposes PoemsBased on Keywords: openness, pettiness, high-climbing