Did I stipulate "Provided answer suit my hopes, not fears!"
Would I shrink to learn my lifetime's limit—days, weeks, months or years?
Would I shirk assurance on each point whereat I can but guess—
"Does the soul survive the body? Is there God's self, no or yes?"
If I know my mood, 't were constant—come in whatsoe'er uncouth
Shape it should, nay, formidable—so the answer were but truth.
Well, and wherefore shall it daunt me, when 't is I myself am tasked,
When, by weakness weakness questioned, weakly answers—weakly asked?
Weakness never needs be falseness: truth is truth in each degree
—Thunder-pealed by God to Nature, whispered by my soul to me.