generated-poem.txt

Where is life?
Oh, haven't I got the heaven grieved
  For late unto me?
No, not as the dryad knew;
To her dismayed feet
  There is no utterance for
Since yesterday, June 1.
Ah, what dignified horizon
  There must be for me in
The domed town, --
Has anybody there?
June is the Delight of Giants;
  Giants are as much to know
As to see or be.
Their secrecy divine,
  The wealth, --
High noon is done;
  Giants 'discretion' is.
XXI.
A COUNTRY BURIAL.
Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
   Or declare the doom.
XXII.
GOAL.
Each life converges to some centre
Expressed or still;
Exists in every possible state
  Some plane or other
Admitted as hopelessly as hand
  To the jeweller's key.
XXIII.
SATISFIED.
One blessing had I, than the rest
  So larger to my eyes
That I stopped gauging, satisfied,
  For this enchanted size.
Another blessing, -- wealth?
  No: --just this:
Henceforth am I content.
  What more could I ask?
XXIV.
Whether my exile been brief,
  Or whether it be
Longer than I could wish;
  What then? Can a wish be
Existence's stamp?
  Then, when 't is done,
Can a will be
A power over it?
  Then, when 't is done,
Can a will be
A grace over it?
  Then, when 't is done,
Can a will be
A heaven over it?
  Then, when 't is done,
Can a spirit abash
   Existence's wall!