Clouds Without Water

I] Tanswer Thee out of the utmost dust. fama worm, I abase myself, I cry Against myself that I am found unjust More than all they that dwell beneath the sky. I do repent, I do lament, o Thou Who hast watched over us and cared for us, Beating i’ the dust this consecrated brow, And answer Thee in broken murmur thus, That Iam altogether base and vile, That Thou art altogether good and great, That Thou hast given the guerdon grace for guile Even while I lifted up myself to Fate And cursed Thee. And from me who scorned to pray Thou hast rolled the sad sepulchral stone away. III On this wise : that by uttermost good Fortune I met you walking out in London city, Even when from Heaven I did not dareimportune Hardly to pass your house! The Gods took pity They whirled us in a chariot of fire About the highest heavens for many an age! So Regent’s Park may seem to hot desire; So the archangel gets a cabman's wage; So all the aeons that pass still leave one time To take one’s lunch at the appointed hour — This is the difference between prose and rime And this the great gulf fixed for leaf and flower. The British public grunts and growls and grovels, Swilling its hogwash of neurotic novels.