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Poem	When God turned back eternity and was young, Ancient of Days, grown little for your mirth (As under the low arch the land is bright) Peered through you, gate of heaven--and saw the earth. Or shutting out his shining skies awhile Built you about him for a house of gold To see in pictured walls his storied world Return upon him as a tale is told. Or found his mirror there; the only glass That would not break with that unbearable light Till in a corner of the high dark house God looked on God, as ghosts meet in the night. Star of his morning; that unfallen star In that strange starry overturn of space When earth and sky changed places for an hour And heaven looked upwards in a human face. Or young on your strong knees and lifted up Wisdom cried out, whose voice is in the street, And more than twilight of twiformed cherubim Made of his throne indeed a mercy-seat. Or risen from play at your pale raiment's hem God, grown adventurous from all time's repose, Or your tall body climbed the ivory tower And kissed upon your mouth the mystic rose.
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