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Poem	THE seraph sings before the manifest God-One, and in the burning of the Seven, And with the full life of consummate Heaving beneath him like a mother's Warm with her first-born's slumber in that The poet sings upon the earth grave-riven, Before the naughty world, soon self-forgiven For wronging him,--and in the darkness prest From his own soul by worldly weights. Even so, Sing, seraph with the glory ! heaven is high; Sing, poet with the sorrow ! earth is low: The universe's inward voices cry ' Amen ' to either song of joy and woe: Sing, seraph,--poet,--sing on equally !
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