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I got so I could take his name-
Without-Tremendous gain-
That Stop-sensation-on my Soul-
And Thunder-in the Room-
I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned-how-
And all our Sinew tore-
I got so I could stir the Box-
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath-
As Staples-driven through-
Could dimly recollect a Grace-
I think, they call it “God”-
Renowned to ease Extremity-
When Formula, had failed-
And shape my Hands-
Petition’s way,
Tho’ ignorant of a word
That Ordination-utters-
My Business, with the Cloud,
If any Power behind it, be,
Not subject to Despair-
It care, in some remoter way,
For so minute affair
As Misery-
Itself, too vast, for interrupting-more-
