Man I am and man would be, Love–merest man and nothing more.
Bid me seem no other! Eagles boast of pinions–let them soar!
I may put forth angel’s plumage, once unmanned, but not before.
Now on earth to stand suffices,–nay, if kneeling serves, to kneel:
Here you front me, here I find the all of heaven that earth can feel:
Sense looks straight,–not over,under,–perfect sees beyond appeal.
Good you are and wise, full circle: what to me were more outside?
Wiser wisdom, better goodness? Ah, such want the angel’s wide
Sense to take and hold and keep them! Mine at least has never tried.
