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Poem	Because my faltering feet may fail to dare The first descendant of the steps of Hell Give me the Word in time that triumphs there. I too must pass into the misty hollow Where all our living laughter stops: and hark! The tiny stuffless voices of the dark Have called me, called me, till I needs must follow: Give me the Word and I'll attempt it well. Say it's the little winking of an eye Which in that issue is uncurtained quite; A little sleep that helpsa moment by Between the thin dawn and the large daylight. Ah! tell me more than yet was hoped of men; Swear that's true now, and I'll believe it then.
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