Chapter IV
By the more height of thy sweet stature grown,Twice-eyed with thy gray vision set in mine,I ken far lands to wifeless men unknown,I compass stars for one-sexed eyes too fine.No text on sea-horizons cloudily writ,No maxim vaguely starred in fields or skies,But this wise thou-in-me deciphers it:Oh, thou’rt the Height of heights, the Eye of eyes.Not hardest Fortune’s most unbounded stressCan blind my soul nor hurl it from on high,Possessing thee, the self of loftiness,And very light that Light discovers by.Howe’er thou turn’st, wrong Earth! still Love’s in sight:For we are taller than the breadth of night.
Baltimore, 1874–5.