Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun,
We'll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread Those dusty high-roads of the aimless
Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and
Down some close-covered by-way of the air,
498I envy Seas, whereon He rides—I envy Spokes of
Of Chariots, that Him convey—I envy Crooked
That gaze upon His journey—How easy All can
What is forbidden
Turn from that road's beguiling ease; returnto your hunger's turret
Enter, climb the stairchill with disuse, where the croaking toad of timeregards from shimmering eyes your slow ascentand the drip, drip, of darkness glimmers on the stoneto s...