Part One: Life
 
                    LXII
 
BEFORE I got my eye put out,
I liked as well to see
As other creatures that have eyes,
And know no other way.
 
But were it told to me, to—day,
That I might have the sky
For mine, I tell you that my heart
Would split, for size of me.
 
The meadows mine, the mountains mine,—
All forests, stintless stars,
As much of noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes.
 
The motions of the dipping birds,
The lightning’s jointed road,
For mine to look at when I liked,—
The news would strike me dead!
 
So, safer, guess, with just my soul
Upon the window—pane
Where other creatures put their eyes,
Incautious of the sun.

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