Between the time of Waking and of Sleep
When, poised on either's world, the senses stand
And can, as from earth's final height, command
Sunrise and sunset both, whole seas a-creep
In smoking silver, and the purpled Deep
Of shadowy continents on either hand —
My spirit claimed its free-born rights, and scanned
Creation, like sand piling in a heap.

Space was its hourglass which the stars poured through:
The world, suns, and unnumbered galaxies
Inverting and reverting, ran like sand
Of glittering grain — nadir and zenith blue
(Apex and base) revolved my vision sees,
This way and that, no doubt by God's Great Hand!


T HE risen sun was on me, and from sleep
I lifted slowly up the tides of dream
And, dimly gathering, saw the daylight gleam...
I was a diver from wide-murmuring deep
To deep slant-mounting, through great waters green
Where many an uncouth shape is vastly seen
And mighty ribs, half-bared, of storm-slain things
And old, forgotten argosies of kings...
Then, overhead, the immeasurable sky
Opened; I greeted heaven with a shout,
Glad of the air that circled large about, —
My limbs so free that I could almost fly.
Shall I so waken at the touch of death
And mount to wider being, larger breath?
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