What shall I say? for God—whose wise decree
Confirmeth all He did by all He doth—
Doubled His whole creation making thee.
22
I would be a bird, and straight on wings I arise,
And carry purpose up to the ends of the air:
In calm and storm my sails I feather, and where
By freezing cliffs the unransom’d wreckage lies:
Or, strutting on hot meridian banks, surprise
The silence: over plains in the moonlight bare