O tell us, poet, what you do?
But those dark, deadly, devastating ways,
How do you bear them, suffer them?
And then the Nameless beyond guess or gaze,
How can you call it, conjure it?
And whence your right in every kind of maze,
In every mask, to remain true?
And that the mildest and wildest ways
Know you, like star and storm?
Because I praise.