I see thee better—in the Dark— I do not need a Light— The Love of Thee—a Prism be— Excelling Violet— I see thee better for the Years That hunch themselves between— The Miner's Lamp—sufficient be— To nullify the Mine— And in the Grave—I see Thee best— Its little Panels be Aglow—All ruddy—with the Light I held so high, for Thee— What need of Day— To Those whose Dark—hath so—surpa**ing Sun— It deem it be—Continually— At the Meridian?