I have been cowed too long by closed-in walls,
By masonry of muscle, blood and bone;
This quaking house of flesh that was my own,
High roof-tree of the heart, see how it falls!
I go—but pause upon the threshold’s rust,
To shake from off my feet my own dead dust.
Saul! Saul!
I braced myself in that vast hour,
Marking His mighty nod,
Strange winds directed my poor aim: