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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"— |