Bloomed at his need like the manna of old, and grateful he listened and knew
That God, who forbade him to read a poem, was letting him live one through,
And his wing-clipt faith grew whole once more, spurning its shackles and bars,
And he soared on pinions steady and strong to the gracious accessible stars,
And man was honest and woman was true and the Infinite God was kind,
And the world was a fair pure world again, and only his eyes were blind,
And he bowed his head to the All-wise Will, embracing the doom assigned.
