But a companion hearty, natural,
Who sorrows with indomitable eyes
For his mistreated plan
To share with all men the upspringing sod,
The unfolding skies—
Not God who made Himself the Man,
But a man who proved man’s unused worth—
And made himself the God.
Once you had listened, Celia, to a stream
And lain a long time, silent as a sleeper.