I rose because he sank.
I thought it would be
Opposite,
But when his power bent,
My Soul stood straight.
I told him Best must pass
Through this low arch of
Flesh;
No casque so brave
It spurn the grave—
I told him worlds I knew
Where monarchs grew
Who recollected us
If we were true.
And so with thews of hymn
And sinew from within,
In ways I knew not that
I knew, till then—
I lifted him.
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