Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind-Thy windy will to bear!
in this short life that only lasts ah hour how much-how little-is within our power.
Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.
Tell all the Truth, but tell it slant/Success in Circuit lies.
These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.
Love can do all but raise the Dead I doubt if even that From such a giant were withheld Were flesh equivalent But love is tired and must sleep, And hungry and must graze And so abets the shining Fleet Till it is out of gaze.