Than Heaven more remote,
For Heaven is the Root,
But these the flitted Seed,
More flown indeed,
Than Ones that never were,
Or those that hide, and are -
What madness, by their side,
A vision to provide
Of future Days
They cannot praise -
My Soul - to find them - come -
They cannot call - they're dumb -
Nor prove - nor Woo -
But that they have Abode -
Is absolute as God -
And instant - too.
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