LIFE
Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;How highUnto the saints’ slow diligenceThe sky!
Ungained, it may be, by a life’s low venture,But then,Eternity enables the endeavoringAgain.
LXII
BEFORE I got my eye put out,I liked as well to seeAs other creatures that have eyes,And know no other way.
But were it told to me, to-day,That I might have the skyFor mine, I tell you that my heartWould split, for size of me.
The meadows mine, the mountains mine,—All forests, stintless stars,As much of noon as I could takeBetween my finite eyes.
The motions of the dipping birds,The lightning’s jointed road,For mine to look at when I liked,—The news would strike me dead!
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