“Now I have become a man
and know no more than mankind can
and groan with nature’s every groan,
transcending child’s blind skeleton
and all childish divinity,
while loomed in consanguinity
the weaving of the shroud goes on.
No two things alike; and yet
first memory dies, then I forget
one carnal thought that made thought grim:
but that has sunk below time’s rim
and wonder ageing into woe
later dayes more fatal show:
Time gets thicker, light gets dim.
And I a second Time am blind,
all starlight dimmed out of the mind
that was first candle to the morn,
and candelabra turned to thorn.
All is dream till morn has rayed
the Rose of night back into shade,
Messiah firmament reborn.
Now I cannot go be wild
or harken back to shape of child
chrystal born into the aire
circled by the harte and bear
and agelesse in a greene arcade,
for he is down in Granite laid,
or standing on a Granite stair.
No return, where thought’s completed;
let that ghost’s last gaze go cheated:
I may waste my days no more
pining in spirituall warre.
Where am I in wilderness?
What creature bore my bones to this?
Here is no Eden: this is my store.”