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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396923" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Promise In Disturbance</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396923" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How low when angels fall their black descent, <br>Our primal thunder tells: known is the pain <br>Of music, that nigh throning wisdom went, <br>And one false note cast wailful to the insane. <br>Now seems the language heard of Love as rain <br>To make a mire where fruitfulness was meant. <br>The golden harp gives out a jangled strain, <br>Too like revolt from heaven's Omnipotent. <br>But listen in the thought; so may there come <br>Conception of a newly-added chord, <br>Commanding space beyond where ear has home. <br>In labour of the trouble at its fount, <br>Leads Life to an intelligible Lord <br>The rebel discords up the sacred mount.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=George+Meredith">George Meredith</a></strong></div>

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