Part 300 of a daily series of readings of his favourite poetry by Dr Iain McGilchrist, author of The Master and His Emissary. Today's poem is To - by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Please subscribe to this channel to be notified of the next reading.

For updates on Iain's upcoming new platform go to https://channelmcgilchrist.com

~ To - by Percy Bysshe Shelley ~

One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.

I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not,—
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?