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Poem	My period had come for Prayer -- No other Art -- would do -- My Tactics missed a rudiment -- Creator -- Was it you? God grows above -- so those who pray Horizons -- must ascend -- And so I stepped upon the North To see this Curious Friend -- His House was not -- no sign had He -- By Chimney -- nor by Door Could I infer his Residence -- Vast Prairies of Air Unbroken by a Settler -- Were all that I could see -- Infinitude -- Had'st Thou no Face That I might look on Thee? The Silence condescended -- Creation stopped -- for Me -- But awed beyond my errand -- I worshipped -- did not "pray" --
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