564
My period had come for Prayer
No other Art—would do
My Tactics missed a rudiment
Creator—Was it you?
God grows above—so those who pray
Horizons—must ascend
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend
His House was not—no sign had He
By Chimney—nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence
Vast Prairies of Air
Unbroken by a Settler
Were all that I could see
Infinitude—Had'st Thou no Face
That I might look on Thee?
The Silence condescended
Creation stopped—for Me
But awed beyond my errand
I worshipped—did not "pray"