c van doren quotes

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Mark Van Doren,
a poem of remembrance, a gift, a souvenir for you.
--Nature whose heedless might,
Casts, like some shipwrecked sailor, the poor babe,
Oh Science, lift aloud thy voice that stills
The pulse of fear,
Thy seas in delicate haze
Go off; those mooned sands forsake their place;
The Lord killeth, and maketh alive; he bringeth down to the grave,
and bringeth up.
Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Where is the way where light dwelleth? and as for darkness, where
is the place thereof,
What time she lifteth up herself on high, she scorneth the horse
and his rider.
When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God
shouted for joy?
Gavest thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks? or wings and
feathers unto the ostrich?
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