HOW MUCH OF GODHOOD

How much of Godhood did it take —

What purging epochs had to pass,

Ere I was fit for leaf and lake

And worthy of the patient grass?

What mighty travails must have been,

What ages must have moulded me,

Ere I was raised and made akin

To dawn, the daisy and the sea.

In what great struggles was I felled,

In what old lives I labored long,

Ere I was given a world that held

A meadow, butterflies and Song?

But oh, what cleansings and what fears,

What countless raisings from the dead,

Ere I could see Her, touched with tears,

Pillow the little weary head.