Poetry Archives

616

I rose—because He sank—
I thought it would be opposite—
But when his power dropped—
My Soul grew straight.

I cheered my fainting Prince—
I sang firm—even—Chants—
I helped his Film—with Hymn—

And when the Dews drew off
That held his Forehead stiff—
I met him—
Balm to Balm—

I told him Best—must pass
Through this low Arch of Flesh—
No Casque so brave
It spurn the Grave—

I told him Worlds I knew
Where Emperors grew—
Who recollected us
If we were true—

And so with Thews of Hymn—
And Sinew from within—
And ways I knew not that I knew—till then—
I lifted Him—