How much of Godhood did it take -- What purging epochs had to pass, Ere I was fit for leaf and lake And worthy of the patient grass? What mighty travails must have been, What ages must have moulded me, Ere I was raised and made akin To dawn, the daisy and the sea. In what great struggles was I felled, In what old lives I labored long, Ere I was given a world that held A meadow, butterflies and Song? But oh, what cleansings and what fears, What countless raisings from the dead, Ere I could see Her, touched with tears, Pillow the little weary head. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOSEPH DIXON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS UPON DRINKING IN A BOWL by ANACREON THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ANGLOSAXON STREET by EARL (EARLE) BIRNEY CHAUCERS WORDES UNTO ADAM, HIS OWN SCRIVEYN by GEOFFREY CHAUCER SONNET by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ICHABOD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |