Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning —
Lightning — lets away
Power to perceive His Process
With Vitality.
Maimed — was I — yet not by Venture —
Stone of stolid Boy —
Nor a Sportsman's Peradventure —
Who mine Enemy?
Robbed — was I — intact to Bandit —
All my...
The Lightning is a yellow Fork
From Tables in the sky
By inadvertent fingers dropt
The awful Cutlery
Of mansions never quite disclosed
And never quite concealed
The Apparatus of the Dark
To ignorance revealed.
The Lightning playeth — all the while —
But when He singeth — then —
Ourselves are conscious He exist —
And we approach Him — stern —
With Insulators — and a Glove —
Whose short — sepulchral Bass
Alarms us — tho' His Yellow feet
May pass — and counterpass —
Upon the...