I reckon -- when I count it all --

 I reckon -- when I count it all --
First -- Poets -- Then the Sun --
Then Summer -- Then the Heaven of God --
And then -- the List is done --

But, looking back -- the First so seems
To Comprehend the Whole --
The Others look a needless Show --
So I write -- Poets -- All --

Their Summer -- lasts a Solid Year --
They can afford a Sun
The East -- would deem extravagant --
And if the Further Heaven --

Be Beautiful as they prepare
For Those who worship Them --
It is too difficult a Grace --
To justify the Dream --

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