< a295a.txt.1; poem >
No man saw awe, nor to his house
Admitted he a man
Though of by his awful residence
Has human nature been.
Not deeming of his dread abode
Till laboring to flee
A grasp on comprehension laid
Detained vitality.
Returning is a different route
The Spirit could not show
For breathing is the only work
To be enacted now.
"Am not consumed," old Moses wrote,
"Yet saw Him face to face -"
The very physiognomy
I am convinced was this