Poetry Archives

680

Each Life Converges to some Centre—
Expressed—or still—
Exists in every Human Nature
A Goal—

Embodied scarcely to itself—it may be—
Too fair
For Credibility’s presumption
To mar—

Adored with caution—as a Brittle Heaven—
To reach
Were hopeless, as the Rainbow’s Raiment
To touch—

Yet persevered toward—sure—for the Distance—
How high—
Unto the Saint’s slow diligence—
The Sky—

Ungained—it may be—by a Life’s low Venture—
But then—
Eternity enable the endeavoring
Again.