National Poetry Month: Day 15

I've heard the line from this poem about picking blackberries numerous times, but I had never sought it out in context until I was writing a talk about parables a few weeks ago. This section is from a much larger poem called "Aurora Leigh" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

No lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee,
But finds some coupling with the spinning stars;
No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere;
No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim:
And, — glancing on my own thin, veined wrist, —
In such a little tremour of the blood
The whole strong clamour of a vehement soul
Doth utter itself distinct.
Earth's crammed with heaven
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more, from the first similitude.
  

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