Thinking of my earthly lot

Of trammels that the mind forgot

Driven now well far away

To origins of pain allayed

Mystery unfolds the hour

(whence begot this mortal power?)

‘Cross vaster time the twain did speak

I bowed before the lords own feet

To find my ancient self to meet

And knowing now the pain replete

I humbly did concede


Demanding the creator “Why?”

The answer; in true visions eye

For all the questions asked on high.

To know is never to deny.

For the heart is God’s own spy

And wisdom there enthroned.