The Chrysalis

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The Chrysalis

Methought I floated sightless, nor did know

That I had ears until I heard the cry

As of a mighty man in agony:

“How long, Lord, shall I lie thus foul and slow?

The arrows of thy lightning through me go,

And sting and torture me⁠—yet here I lie

A shapeless mass that scarce can mould a sigh!”

The darkness thinned; I saw a thing below

Like sheeted corpse, a knot at head and feet.

Slow clomb the sun the mountains of the dead,

And looked upon the world: the silence broke!

A blinding struggle! then the thunderous beat

Of great exulting pinions stroke on stroke!

And from that world a mighty angel fled.